


A tale of two Harrys

by mad_fairy



Series: NinjaWizard: Adventures of Harry Potter, Dimensional Traveler (Side Stories) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, alternate Harry has a bit of a potty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:57:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_fairy/pseuds/mad_fairy
Summary: The Harry and Tom of "Ninja Wizard" make an accidental stop in an alternate universe that is following HP canon.  Alternate Harry is not amused and decides to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I figured since I was in the process of finally posting "Ninja wizard" that I might as well post the first side story as well. This takes place between book 3 and 4, and is actually briefly referenced in "Adventures in Dimension Hopping".  
> Enjoy!

 “This isn’t the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Noticed that, did you? And people say you’re not quick on the uptake.”

Harry swatted Tom absently, even while he looked around. It was a familiar, much-hated, but quite familiar room. It was in fact his room at the Dursleys…though it looked like it had years ago when it was still Dudley’s second bedroom. It didn’t look to have gotten a new coat of paint recently, and the bed still bore the thin, back-destroying mattress that used to be in there before he’d demanded repayment for the money they’d made off him while denying him basic care. Tom was standing just in front of him, wand out, though he didn’t look concerned. Harry followed Tom’s gaze and gasped. There, on the other side of the room was…himself, looking wild-eyed and half-starved, wearing rags that hung from his thin frame, taped glasses, and trainers so worn they looked ready to fall off his feet. He had his wand out and his teeth bared threateningly.

“Um…Tom?”

“We seem to have made a wrong turn into an alternate universe.”

Hedwig flew from his shoulder to land in front of an identical snowy white owl who was locked in her cage. They stared at each other for a bit, and then his Hedwig puffed up with outrage. 

“What is it, girl?” 

Hedwig sqwawked and flapped her wings and puffed out her chest. Harry’s face darkened angrily.

“They don’t let you let her out all summer, and she’s been sharing whatever scraps they give you?”

The not-Harry who was backed against the door was starting to tremble, though he looked to be trying his best to hide it, and was starting to hyperventilate.

“You’re not supposed to be able to get to me here…and what’s with you? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

Harry ignored him for the moment, trusting Tom to watch his back. He made his way over to Hedwig’s cage and pressed his wand to the padlock (a padlock of all things!) that was holding the cage shut and opened the door.  
The second Hedwig darted out as though fearing she’d be shoved back in there if she didn’t take the chance while she had it.   
Harry patted his own owl, who had taken up station on his shoulder.

“Take her out hunting girl. We’re going to be here for a bit.”  
   
Once the two birds were gone, he turned back to his counterpart, crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance. 

“Did you receive brain damage at some point? You just saw us step out of a portal, and I’m obviously you. You also heard that we’re from an alternate dimension. Would you relax-- before you pass out, preferably. Why are you here? Why does the room look like this? Why are you dressed like that?... When’s the last time you ate?”

Harry2 scowled angrily at them both. 

“I live here, it’s always looked this way, these are the only clothes I have that aren’t school robes, and…that’s none of your business.” He finished with a growl that didn’t quite hide the embarrassment. “And I don’t care what you say, you could never ever be me…because…the only way he would be here with you is if you stood by while he ate Ginny and joined him! What happened? Did you already kill everyone in your own world and you came here to start on mine? Filthy deatheater scum!” 

“BOY! YOU QUIT YOUR RACKET, DO YOU HEAR ME?” Uncle Vernon snarled from down the hall.

Alternate Harry flinched, just a tiny bit, but he continued glaring defiantly at the two of them all the while and his wand never wavered.  
Tom cast an imperturbable on the door so they wouldn’t be overheard or interrupted.  
   
Harry’s eyes narrowed and he started towards his counterpart, holding up his hands to show he didn’t have his wand out. Harry2 still looked a bit wild-eyed, but underneath the fear was a rock solid determination to go down fighting, no matter what.

“How old are you?” Harry asked curiously.

Harry2 eyed him a moment, as though trying to discern what nefarious purpose he had for asking. He obviously couldn’t think of one, because he did eventually answer.

“Almost fourteen.” he bit out aggressively while his eyes darted back and forth trying to keep them both in sight.

Harry frowned, taking in the tremendous height difference between them—three or four inches at least, to say nothing of the differences in their musculature, or the unhealthy pallor of his counterpart’s skin, or how listless his messy hair was. 

“I’m not quite fifteen, and I haven’t had any recent growth spurts. Why aren’t you with Sirius?”

Harry2’s face twisted into bitter despair. 

“That rat-bastard Pettigrew got away, and that idiot Fudge wouldn’t listen to us when we tried to tell him Sirius was innocent.”

“You mean he’s still in Azkaban?” Harry barked, utterly horrified.

Harry 2 blinked at him in confusion.

“He escaped from Azkaban. He’s still on the run.”

“When did he escape?”

“Over last summer.” 

Harry flopped down on the bed, then winced at how thin and uncomfortable it was—this Harry had obviously never gotten around to demanding better clothing and a better mattress…and had never gotten Sirius out of prison…

“It seems we have a lot to talk about. Let’s compare notes. When did you first learn of the existence of the magical world?”

Tom sank down beside him and looked attentive.  
   
Harry2 edged around them both and pulled out a rickety chair from under the desk in the corner and sat down facing them, while keeping his wand trained on them. 

“When I was eleven, when Hagrid rescued me and gave me my letter.”

“What do you mean, rescued you?”

“You first. When did you?”

“When I was seven and Mrs. Figg told me, after I noticed the whole neighborhood was full of her cats and they were spying on me. She freaked out afterwards, because she wasn’t supposed to tell me anything—Dumbledore’s orders. She made us both drink a memory-modifying potion. Now what do you mean, rescued you?”

“Mrs. Figg? My babysitter? She’s a witch?”

“A squib, now answer the question.”   
   
Harry sat there numb as he listened to his counterpart’s whole ridiculous array of mishaps in the magical world. He had never discovered Dumbledore’s interference, nor the scary amount of power he wielded over him because his godfather had been wrongfully incarcerated for years without a trial. Hagrid had introduced him to the magical world, and poisoned him against huge swaths of the population before he knew enough about anything to make his own judgments. He had never gotten to speak to the goblins, never met Augusta and Neville, never started the wheels turning to free Sirius or Barty….Barty! Barty was still being held prisoner by his father right now! Sirius was on the run, Pettigrew was still at large…what a mess. 

It got worse. He had sat with Ron Weasley on the train and made implacable enemies of Draco, Vince and Greg before they’d ever arrived at school—he hated Slytherin house with an unholy passion, and had a huge malfunction about his own ‘Slytherin qualities’ and parselmouth abilities. He and Weasley had battled the troll to save Hermione Granger and ended up becoming friends with her as well (the horror, the horror--the bicker twins were his best mates. How had he not gone mad?). 

The three of them had heedlessly run off to ‘rescue’ the philosopher’s stone and Harry had ended up killing Quirrel—who had burned up when he touched him. Their little adventure was then used to publicly humiliate Slytherin house as an added bonus. After all that (not to mention having nearly died), he was shuffled off back to the Dursleys and held prisoner for the whole summer, then spent the following school year being hated and ostracized by the whole school for being a parselmouth, students got petrified, and then he ended the school year by destroying Tom’s diary horcrux, battling a full-grown, living basilisk, and nearly dying again—to save Ginny Weasley, his annoying psycho stalker, who the diary had been in the process of eating, so he could get a body, run off and help his main part fix himself and start up the war again. 

After all that, he was sent off to be held prisoner and be mistreated by the Dursleys again, until he blew up Vernon’s sister Marge like a balloon and fled for his life. He’d spent the last school year with the grounds of Hogwarts surrounded by dementors—which had nearly killed him in a quidditch game. He’d been unable to go to Hogsmeade because Vernon never signed his slip due to the mishap with Marge. He was nearly was killed by dementors a second time while they tried apprehending Sirius, then was nearly killed by Lupin, and Pettigrew had gotten away. Because everything had gone so pear-shaped, he’d been shuffled off to the Dursleys again.   
   
“You are completely pathetic! I cannot believe you’re me! Do you have a single working brain cell in that head of yours? Your life is shit and you just take it like a lump! By the sound of it, you haven’t done a single thing to prepare yourself , you haven’t done anything to better learn your way around the magical world, you’ve made enemies left and right, and you haven’t done anything to try to improve your circumstances! You just bend over whenever fucking Dumbledore or Granger-the-annoying tells you to!”

“Shut up, you wanker! What the hell do you know! Dumbledore is the greatest wizard who ever lived and Hermione is not only a great friend, she’s the brightest witch of the age! Everyone says so! You sound like a filthy Death Eater! There’s no way you’re me!”

Harry smiled, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

“You think Dumbledore is so wise and great and all-knowing? You think he has your best interests at heart? You’ll think otherwise once I tell you about my life.” 

“Psh. There’s nothing you can say that will convince me.” Harry2 declared with absolute conviction.

“We’ll see. My story starts when I was seven. I started having some weird dreams, and later I noticed something odd about the cats in the neighborhood…”   
   
Harry tried to be as thorough as possible, explaining his reasoning for having done different things—hoping to lead by example. Harry2 slumped in his seat more and more as the story wound on—and it was no wonder, really. Compared to his life, Harry’s was a dream come true. He had a real home where people wanted him, he was friends or at least friendly acquaintances with at least half the school, he hadn’t nearly died every year since he’d been to Hogwarts, Lupin was no longer a werewolf and had a permanent job as the DADA teacher because the curse on it had been undone. He himself was already a bestselling author, had a corporation, a house of his own, and his Voldemort problem was already taken care of—the mad dark lord was gone, and in his place was sane Tom Riddle who he’d become friends with. He was one of the top students of his year, and was ready to take twelve OWLs the following year—fourth year, because they’d restructured the curriculum, added more activities and more students. There was really no comparison between their lives.  
   
When Harry finally stopped talking, he sat back and contemplated his counterpart, who was now slumped in a depressed heap, his mouth hanging slightly open, with a dull, vacant expression on his face.  
He stood abruptly and motioned for Harry2 to do so as well. Tom stood more slowly and eyed his Harry questioningly.

“He’s me, even if he’s a me I’m ashamed to claim is me.”

“Hey!”

“We need to go somewhere else for a bit so we can examine him. I’m not a super genius, but neither am I a slack-jawed yokel. I’m independent and hate being caged, and I’m driven…he’s not. I’m quite good at magic—the small stuff and the showy stuff. He’s barely passing, and by the sound of it can’t perform magic but once a year, when his life is being threatened. There’s something very wrong here.”

“Do you have someplace in mind?”

“Yes, the chamber of secrets. We can examine him, and depending on what we find we can make further plans from there.” 

“What…but…I’m not allowed to leave.” 

Harry glared at his counterpart in fury. “Who the fuck made Dumbledore the boss of you? YOU, that’s who. The man has NO say in anything you do. He is not your guardian, he is not your friend, he is the fucking headmaster of your school, and in case you haven’t noticed SCHOOL IS NOT IN SESSION! For fuck’s sake! The only thing that gives him power over you is _your agreement that he has it!_ That’s how the man works! You are coming with me and I’m going to get you straightened out before I leave if I have to kick your ass from here to Scotland to do so! Get your invisibility cloak!”   
   
Harry2 ‘eeped’ and edged away from his counterpart. He was scary. Why wasn’t he scary? 

Everyone just walked all over him…but he deserved it, didn’t he, for always screwing up the way he did. He should just stay here, and listen to Dumbledore.   
Dumbledore knew best.  
Harry frowned as his counterpart, instead of fetching his cloak and getting ready to leave, glazed over and then slumped on the bed.   
He shared a look with Tom, who stunned Harry2 without needing to be asked, and then disillusioned him. 

“That probably will be simpler until he’s walking under his own power again.” Harry sighed as he dug out the cloak anyway, along with a photo album and parchment that had been hidden in the same spot and tucked them away into his pocket. Tom gathered up and packed the rest of Harry’s things with a wave of his wand while he did so. 

“Do you know where the forest entrance to the Chamber is?”

"Yes."

The two boys disillusioned themselves as well, slipped out the back door and down the block, then with two soft pops, the apparated themselves and their unconscious guest to a spot in the forbidden forest.  
   
A quick scan of the area showed no one, and no creatures thereabouts.   
“Tom?” Harry whispered.  
“Here.”

He could hear Tom’s footsteps, though it was obvious he was taking care not to make too much noise.  
Harry put his counterpart over his shoulder and followed after.

**_“Open”_ **

The door that made the outside entrance to the chamber wasn’t quite as fancy as the one inside. It was made to look like more stone, and blended in with what looked to be a loose tumble of rock. Discerning eyes were needed to find the small snake inscribed on one of the rocks that held the parseltongue lock on the door.  
They followed a long passage down at a slope for a fair distance, heading towards the mountain base beneath the castle and the lake, until finally emerging in the large underground cavern which held the chamber of secrets. 

“You know what, let’s head there afterwards. Let’s go to the room of requirement instead. We can order up a comfortable room to do our exam in.” 

“There’s an entrance to the room of requirement down here?”

“Yeah, that’s how I got down here. It will only bring you down if you’re a parselmouth. That’s why no one else could find it all this time.” 

Harry edged past and led the way to the stretch of wall that served as the entrance then stood back to let Tom do the pacing, since he was unburdened.  
When the door appeared, Tom led them through into a comfortable room furnished with chairs, a hospital cot, a table with a pensieve, and a table set with food for three.  
 Harry set his burden down on the hospital bed and then moved to the table to join Tom. He put a stasis charm on Harry2’s portion of the food and then dug into his own with good appetite. 

“It seems you were right about the plan being to obliterate my soul bit by bit.”

“One part has already been. What happened to it? Did it pass on to the afterlife, or is it truly gone? I was told the soul piece was destroyed along with the item, but maybe it’s not, maybe it just passes on, broken.”

“I don’t really know. “ Tom admitted, subdued.

“Do you think you’d be able to undo them?”

“Undo them?”

“Dumbledore knows about them, probably has since they were first created. Sooner or later, they’re going to end up getting obliterated, unless we take steps to set the pieces free first….except, I don’t know what to do about the one in him. He’s so twisted up I don’t know if he’d be able to invoke the remorse clause to rid himself of his piece.”

Tom shuddered and closed his eyes while he thought it over.

“We’ll examine him first and see what’s what. I’ll do what I can to release the other pieces. We’ll feed him some anti-obliviate potion and see if it works…if not…” he swallowed and then continued resolutely “We’ll use the basilisk fang he mentioned and some phoenix tears and hope for the best.” 

Harry reached across the table to touch Tom’s hand. Tom gripped his hand back and squeezed, before letting go and going back to his food.   
 

 

“Ughhh…”

“Finally awake, I see.”

Harry2 took the glasses that were being held out to him and put them on.

“These aren’t my glasses.”

“No they’re my spare pair.” 

Harry2 nodded distractedly and looked around, only to realize they weren’t in his bedroom anymore. That’s when everything came rushing back.

“What the…where…you stunned me!”

“So we did. Are you hungry?”

Harry2’s stomach gurgled with hunger at the thought of food, but he ignored it while he tried to get answers.

“Where are we?”

“Room of requirement at Hogwarts.”

“What? How did we get in Hogwarts? It’s impossible to get in without Dumbledore…”

“Would you please go for five minutes without being such a whining little sycophant? We’re at Hogwarts, Dumbledore has no clue. Deal with it. The only reason he knows so much about what goes on in the castle is because he has all the portraits, house elves and ghosts spying for him. We passed none of those things, and so he’s clueless. As for the vaunted wards of Hogwarts, they’re meant to be held by seven people—the headmaster, the four heads of house, the groundskeeper and the caretaker. Because Dumbledore is such a control freak, he’s holding all of them himself, which means he turned off about half of them and ignores most of the rest because he can’t actually deal with the strain and it’s given him a god complex. The grey lady helped me reset the wards my second year, so I know what I’m talking about. He wanted to make damned sure no one could ever make him leave, no matter how crappy a job he did. He thinks Hogwarts belongs to him.” 

“He’s the greatest headmaster…”

“Are you shitting me? Compared to what? A naked mole rat on drugs? He’s a lousy headmaster! Academic standards have continually declined under his leadership, all the arts programs, half the electives, the dueling club, the fencing club, have all disappeared since he took over. House rivalries have soared to unprecedented heights, and he has a bad habit of picking favorites who are allowed to run roughshod over everyone in the school with barely any repercussions—in fact, their victims are often the ones punished. He runs this place like it’s his own private playground rather than a school. Greatest headmaster my ass! The only good thing he’s done since he took over was to remove corporal punishment.”  
   
Harry2 shot Harry a dirty look, but followed him to the table and dug into his food anyway. The way he seemed to have to fight to keep from wolfing it down told them both it had been awhile since he’d gotten enough to eat.   
When Harry2 was done eating, Harry motioned him back to the hospital cot. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious. We’re going to check you over head to toe for spells, potions, and various health issues, and you’re going to let us. If you don’t cooperate, I’ll stun you and do it anyway. I got lucky in that I had a chance to evade the crappy life you’ve been handed, and I stumbled upon lots of people along the way who were willing to help me and look after me, so I’m going to do the same for you because you didn’t get any of that. “

Harry2’s jaw clenched and he looked down at the fists that were clenched in his lap.

“Somewhere along the way you forgot all the lessons we learned at the Dursleys, and now you’re paying the price. When push comes to shove, the only person you can really depend on to look after your best interests is yourself. From the sound of it, you gave over control of your life, health and destiny into others hands and just turned into a lump that runs through mazes on command! None of the hands you put yourself into are worthy of the charge. Things are never going to get better for you unless you take charge of your own life. You let Hermione bloody Granger do all your thinking for you! What the hell are you going to do when you get out of school and realize you don’t know how to do anything? You don’t plan ahead for ways to make your life with the Dursleys easier—if you’d looked into making magical items and potions to help you out, or tried using the bloody knight bus again so you could travel, you could have. You’re purposely limiting your growth and potential so that Ron bloody Weasley doesn’t get pissy and jealous. FUCK HIM! If your friendship with him can’t withstand you being marginally competent at anything, or having any friends that aren’t Weasleys, he’s not really your friend and you should wise up before it’s too late. You don’t know your rights, you don’t know your responsibilities, you don’t know your assets…you don’t even really know what you’re fighting for, and you haven’t tried finding out. You’re like a piece of fluff blown wherever the wind takes you, and it keeps taking you to bad places, but instead of trying to get some control, you just bend over and take it! Dumbledore is your headmaster not your fucking god, and his words from on high don’t mean jack shit unless you let them. Now hold still!”  
   
While Harry2 was staring at Harry with wide-eyed shock, Tom began casting several diagnostic charms.

“Mail ward, docility charm…several binds on your magic, multiple obliviates.”

As Tom listed out what all he’d found, books and potions began to appear nearby. Tom consulted several of the books, and began laying out the potions in a certain order.

“Here. Drink this.” 

“What is it?”

“It should counter one of the binds on your magic. You’ll have to take three more after this.” 

“Four binds and a docility charm? It’s a wonder he can even function!” Harry muttered angrily.

Harry2 took the potion, grimaced, and then downed it as quickly as he could manage. He then gasped and doubled over. Harry rubbed his back until the magic surge passed.   
He sat up, looking dazed and then grimaced as Tom handed him a second potion.

“Each one will be a little worse than the one previous. Just try to get it over quickly.”

Harry2 didn’t look too comforted by this information, but he downed the next anyway. When Harry recovered from the last unbinding potion, Tom hit him with the counter to the docility charm.

“What did you just do? My mind feels so clear.”

“You were under a docility charm. It’s usually used on fractious animals. It works by scattering focus—herd animals that are prone to stampeding all get very focused before they do. If they’re docile and unfocused you don’t need to watch them, they’ll just stand there, happily chewing grass and never move from the spot unless prodded to do so by an outside force. Once the outside force is gone, they’ll go right back to chewing grass and not moving.”

The blood slowly drained out of Harry’s face. “Fractious animals?” he repeated, his voice barely able to reach whisper level.

“Yes. Between that and all the binds on your magic…I owe you an apology. It’s amazing what you’ve been able to accomplish while under such restraints. Of course you couldn’t work to improve your lot—the charm wouldn’t have allowed your brain to focus long enough to come up with any sort of plan. If you’ve maintained average grades while under such constraints…maybe I’ll have to revise my opinion on whether or not we’re super geniuses. If you’ve been able to cast high level spells like the patronus while so restrained… You should be proud of yourself, you really should.” 

“I’m nobody special.” Harry2 muttered uncomfortably. 

“Sit up straight and put your shoulders back, you lump! Are you going to let the Dursleys be the yardstick of all you can be?” Harry growled.

Harry2 blinked and edged away from him.

“There’s modesty, and there’s what you do. Enough of this crouching and muttering like a beaten house elf! You are not worthless, you are not a freak, you certainly didn’t deserve to have all this happen to you. You’re not stupid and you don’t need to pretend otherwise!” 

The rage drained out of Harry and he regarded his counterpart, who was still edging back as though fearing to be struck, with real sadness. He gentled his voice to try to keep from spooking him further. 

“I’ve been where you’ve been, the kid in the cupboard. I was lucky enough to escape it…but it sticks with you, I know that. You’re going to have to fight a constant battle with yourself to throw off all that conditioning, but I know you can do it. You can become who you were meant to be, not what the Dursleys, Dumbledore, Granger or the Weasleys want you to be. You are the only one who gets to decide what that is. “  
   
“Are you quite recovered?” Tom asked, his voice bland as though he hadn’t just heard the previous conversation.

“Um…yeah.”

“Goody. Drink this.”

Harry2 sighed and slumped in place. “What’s this then?”

“Anti-obliviation potion.”

“I was obliviated? By who, when? How many times?”

“If our worlds diverged at age 7, then at least twice, by Dumbledore, before you were two. Anything beyond that I don’t know about.”

“Dumbledore…before I was 2?”

“Drink up and you’ll find out.”

Harry2 took the vial rather gingerly, then sighed with resolve and downed it.

He shuddered, then gasped.

“A bunch of people killed a mailman in front of me, Aunt Petunia and Dudley, right on the front lawn! I thought the Dursleys’ was supposed to be safe!”

“The blood wards are so weak they only cover the house itself, and they suck energy from you constantly to try to stay active. They also only protect you from Voldemort himself, no one else. After that happened, the Ministry ordered further warding on the area. Dumbledore insisted he do them himself rather than let your position be widely known. The whole area is a blind spot to the ministry. They only know if magic goes on within the wards if Dumbledore tells them it did.”

“But that would mean that second year…”

“What?”

“Dobby the house elf stole my mail and dumped a pudding on some of uncle Vernon’s guests. I got in trouble for doing the hover charm even though I didn’t do anything. A letter from the Ministry appeared in a puff of smoke and landed in uncle Vernon’s hands. I had told them I could do magic over the summer to keep them off my back, and after that they knew I couldn’t. They put bars on the window and locks on the door and started feeding me through a cat-flap.” 

“Ministry letters appear by owl, not a puff of smoke, and they go to the recipient, not to anyone else—especially not a muggle.” Tom replied quietly.

“Give me the next one.” Harry2 ordered. He glanced over when his counterpart put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“The next one is going to be rough. You should probably lie down.”   
   
 

 

“Hey.”

“Is he…?”

“He’s sleeping. Recovering that particular set of memories takes a lot out of you. He, at least, didn’t have a group of goblins with swords nearby ready to take off his head while it happened.”

“A group of…what?”

“I made a deal with the goblins to take me out if I couldn’t invoke the remorse clause on my horcrux. They gave me a year to finish and if I didn’t have them taken care of by then they were just going to go out and do it themselves after taking me out. They think it’s an abomination, tainting perfectly good artifacts with bits of a wizard’s soul. It really annoys them, because they stumble upon lots of the things all over Egypt while recovering tomb treasure.”

Tom could only sigh at this further proof that he had screwed up in concocting his ‘great plan’—badly. 

“Set of memories? It wasn’t just…that?”

“The first year of my life, more or less. A lot of it’s fuzzy, just snippets really—even wizard babies aren’t so developed that you have clear recall at such an age. There’s a reason I was disconnected from my magic when I was really young.”

“Bastard. I could see removing the memory of that night, perhaps, to spare you, but the rest…”

“It’s over now, we’re both fine…more or less.”

“I wouldn’t think you’d want to recover that night.”

“You wouldn’t think so, but it helps, oddly enough. I got glimpses of the life I might have had were things different, and I got to see and hear my parents’ sacrifice to save me. Up until I recovered those memories, it was all very academic—they died for me. I knew it, but I didn’t know it. When Sirius took me to their graves, he cried and talked to them and he was really broken up. For me, it was just a couple of stones inscribed with almost familiar names. His reaction versus mine is really what brought home to me what I was missing. They were never real to me, they were just an idea. Even having people tell me ‘you look like your dad, but you have your mum’s eyes’, or ‘oh, that James was such a prankster’, or ‘Lily had a temper’…it was just words, and it didn’t make them any more real to me. The memories, good and bad, gave me that.”

Tom nodded, but he seemed ill at ease.   
   
“Are you alright?”

Tom nodded and tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best.

“It was…surprisingly difficult…to listen to the results of what I wrought.” He admitted. “I wonder how you can even look at me.”

“Because you’re different now. The thing that killed my parents was a mad, broken id, unrestrained by any sense of humanity or morality. It would be rather like being angry at a rabid dog for being crazed, in pain, and lashing out at anything that comes near it. Now that your soul is whole again, that piece has been subsumed into the rest as it was meant to be. You’re not the same person…that thing wasn’t a person, it was a force of destruction pretending to be human.”

“Even so, knowing what I am inside…”

“Anyone who had done what you did would have been the same. We all have that darkness in us that simply wants to take what it wants, destroy what it can. Frankly, I would be rather afraid to see what I was capable of under the right circumstances—and there are people who do things as bad or worse with a whole soul. In some ways, you weren’t really responsible for the things you did after you made the first—it was at that point that you were damaged enough that you no longer had the faculty to judge what you did anymore. Once you took that first step it was all downhill from there—you had already lost the things that act as restraints and allow us to live in society. Once I realized that, I had to make a choice—destroy the broken shards and wash my hands of the whole situation, or try to fix what was broken. I opted for the harder path, and I think the results speak for themselves. I forgave you for the wrongs you committed against me. My parents’ might not have, I don’t know…you’ll have to take that up with them someday.”

“Even if you have…and I don’t really see how you could have…” 

Tom let out a frustrated breath and forced himself to look Harry in the eye.

“I’m sorry.”  
“I know, and that’s why I was able to.”

Tom shuddered and closed his eyes—sometimes, having his soul back in one piece still overwhelmed him at unexpected times. He felt warmth on his shoulder and his eyes fluttered open to find Harry standing close by. It was his hand he had felt. Such a simple thing, a touch, and yet it soothed the ache and made it more bearable for being shared.   
Thinking these things made him think about his counterpart in this world, who was where he’d been just a couple of years ago, and had never gotten the benefit of Harry’s strange brand of battling the dark arts. 

“Did he invoke the remorse clause?”

Harry sighed and shook his head, before dropping his hand. 

“No. He’s been repeatedly attacked, belittled and tormented by a list of people too long to recount, your diary piece tried to kill him and a little girl, and he was ostracized and blamed for it, he faced the free piece who tried to kill him back in first year. He doesn’t know you enough to mourn the loss of what you were, or could be again. This whole world is like a fun-house mirror, full of pain, death, and despair in places that I found the opposite. We’re going to have to do things the hard way, I’m afraid.” 

“So my counterpart here will pass on, still mad and broken, and possibly with a big chunk of himself forever out of reach?”

“And my counterpart will probably notice a nagging feeling that he’s missing something all his life and never understand why. Who knows? Maybe they’ll meet on the other side and things will right themselves.”

“Always the optimist, huh?”

“Apparently.”   
   
 

 

 

“So…this wasn’t all just a crazy dream, huh?”

“Oh, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Worn out and really good at the same time. I feel…I dunno…whole? Focused?”

“That’s good, I guess, because it’s time for the next part.”

“Next part?”

“Yeah. You have a piece of Voldemort’s soul lodged in your forehead.”

“WHAT!”

“Relax, I had it too. The thing is, when we un-obliviated you yesterday, we were hoping you would invoke the remorse clause and the thing would detach from you on its own.”

“Let me guess, it didn’t?”

“Got it in one. So, we’re going to have to scrape at it with the basilisk fang.”

“WHAT!”

“It’s okay though. Look who’s here to help!” Harry gestured to the side, where there was a large red and gold bird the size of a pheasant, sitting on a golden perch and watching him. The bird trilled a greeting.

“Fawkes! What are you doing here?” 

Harry2 stared into the bird’s eyes for a moment and his eyes widened in shock.

“He can talk!”

“Yeah. You never talked to him before? It was actually talking to him that sort of inadvertently led to me undoing all the horcruxes.”

“The what?”

“Horcrux. It’s an item into which you store a piece of your soul. It anchors you to the mortal plane so that you can’t die. As you’ve probably guessed, an action like that has a whole heap of side effects and consequences. Voldemort made several of these anchors. As a result, his soul was badly shredded and weakened. When the house our parents were staying in blew up, a piece of his soul broke off from the whole and latched onto the nearest living thing to protect itself—us. Before you ask, Dumbledore knows, and what’s more, the usual method for destroying a horcrux usually results in the destruction of the object in which the soul piece is stored. I lucked out in that I stumbled across the only other way known to undo one—remorse. Because my soul and Voldemort’s were connected, I was able to feel remorse for the senseless death and destruction and that feeling carried over enough that he felt it too and BAM! Horcrux undone. For some reason, it didn’t work here. I think our individual experiences up until this point made enough of a difference that it didn’t work. So, we’re going to have to get it out some other way. Normally, you’d have to die to be sure it was gone, but you stumbled across a way to do it, that, while not safe, does at least guarantee a good chance at survival. Lucky, huh?”  
   
While he was talking, Harry put on a dragonhide glove and then picked up the bloody basilisk fang Tom had retrieved from the Chamber of Secrets earlier.

“Tom brought this here to help out. He doesn’t want to actually witness the extraction though. He’s already a little bummed at finding out part of his counterpart’s soul was destroyed, and he doesn’t want to watch as another piece is.”

Fawkes launched himself from his perch and landed beside Harry’s head on the pillow.

Harry2 looked at the fang warily—he’d almost died from the thing before, and the poison worked fast. Only Fawkes’ warm steady presence beside him kept him from bolting. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Harry2 squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as he felt the fang dig into his scar and leave a trail of burning behind. The pain built up and became blinding and he started to scream. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard someone else screaming as well. He felt hands holding him down and then bit by bit the agonizing fire was soothed away. He slumped down onto the bed, boneless, shaking and sick to his stomach. He was rather surprised to discover his whole body was covered in sweat as well.

 As he came back to himself, he realized his counterpart was sitting on one side, running his fingers through his hair and humming a lullabye in unison with Fawkes who was singing to his other side. He had to blink several times to keep the sting he felt in his eyes from becoming anything more. 

“I know we promised ourselves a long time ago to never cry again, but I’ve since had good reason to revise that rule. We’re the only ones here. If you need to let it out, lord knows you’re more than entitled after all the crap you’ve been through.”

The first choked off sob shook his whole frame, and he tried to push it back down, he really did, but it was all too much—the lifetime of abuse and neglect at the Dursleys, the life-threatening danger since rejoining the magical world, the way everyone seemed ready to turn on him at the drop of a hat, finding out his magic and his mind had been bound up to make a docile little slave of him, remembering his parents’ murder, and now ridding himself of the soul piece of the dark lord that wanted him dead—which would have required him to die, had he not decided to save himself…it was too much.   
A lifetime of tears that he had sworn to never shed came bubbling out like a tidal wave that couldn’t be stopped. Through it all, Fawkes sang and his counterpart stroked his hair.   
 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry2’s eyes fluttered open and he gazed around in confusion for a moment, and then it all came rushing back. He’d had so many shocks, and things had happened so fast since that bloody portal had opened up in his room, it left his head spinning trying to take it all in. 

“Awake again, I see. Why don’t you go get cleaned up? There’s some clothes for you on the end of the bed. Once you’re clean and dressed we can have breakfast and then we have places to go and things to do.”

Harry2 grabbed up the indicated clothing and stumbled off to the bathroom that had somehow appeared in the odd room they’d spent the last…however long it was, in.   
He examined himself in the mirror while he was getting undressed. He made himself really look at himself to try to see what others saw when they looked at him. He’d never liked wearing Dudley’s cast-offs, but he’d long ago grown resigned to them. He’d always been small and skinny with flyaway hair, he’d grown resigned to that too. He’d always tried to walk small and stay as much out of people’s attentions as possible, and gone to great lengths to hide his scar. 

Meeting his counterpart had made him rather unsatisfied with just accepting the status quo and dealing with it. The other Harry was him, he was sure of that now in a way he hadn’t been when he’d first shown up; and yet he was a him he’d never imagined. He was taller than him, had clothes that fit, he was slender but fit and didn’t look like a famine victim. He carried himself with confidence and spoke with authority, like he was used to telling people what to do and expected them to listen. His scar was on display for anyone to see. He had his hair pulled back in a ponytail, forehead bared. His scar was just a faint, silvery line, like his own was now. When you looked at him, you barely noticed the thing. 

He was so different from himself, and all because he’d stood up for himself and went looking for ways to let him fight back right from the beginning. He never let Ron and Hermione dictate who he could be, he found things out on his own, he never let others tell him what things were and what they meant. After all the trouble he’d had with the whole chamber of secrets affair, and he’d been so sickened and ashamed to discover he was a parselmouth…well, it was a bit of a shock to discover he actually came by the talent naturally. 

The other Harry wasn’t ashamed of it, never had been, and had practiced so that he could invoke it at will and tell when he was going from one to the other. He had lots of friends, in all four houses, but his two best friends were Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood—a Ravenclaw a year behind them, who apparently lived near the Weasleys, and used to be friends with Ginny. He’d never even heard of the girl before. In his world, Ron and Draco Malfoy were friends, and played chess together regularly, and he and Draco were friends and had a tug-of-war going on over Crabbe and Goyle, who preferred being Harry’s minions to Draco’s. He was part of a corporation that was backing Percy Weasley in opening a nightclub--he’d apparently gone on a summer-long bender, became an underground fighting tournament champion, partied till he dropped and returned a changed man.

It was like this visit had opened up whole worlds before him, ones he’d never even imagined. Things were so different here in so many ways, he wasn’t sure he could manage anything similar; he wanted to try though, and he wanted to be different himself. He was tired of being everyone’s punching bag, scapegoat and mealticket. For the first time in his life, he saw hope of that actually happening. 

When he was clean, dressed in clothes that fit him for once, he studied himself and vowed that from here on out, he was going to be his own man. It took a real effort to walk tall and proud, and not shuffle into the next room like he tended to do, but the smile and nod he got from his counterpart made the effort seem worth it.

“Come on. We’re heading to Gringott’s first. You do have your key, I hope?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I don’t know if anyone ever told you this, but never hand it out to anyone. If you do that, you’re essentially authorizing them to make free with your vault.”

“No, no one ever did.”

“Typical. Well, now you know. We’re going to get an accounting of all your assets. After that, we’re going to Grimmauld Place, which used to be the home of the Black Family. After that, we’re heading off to the Riddle estate—the house there used to belong to Voldemort’s father and paternal grandparents, and there’s a cottage on the grounds that used to belong to Voldemort’s grandfather, mother and uncle. After that, we’ll see. Oh, before I forget, here’s your invisibility cloak—the real one, not the copy Dumbledore gave you. He can track you under the one he gave you, but not under the one that belonged to your father. Can you feel the difference? Good. Remember that feeling, it may save you from more trickery—that’s what inheritance magic feels like. If it feels like that, it’s yours. We may need it to escape Dumbledore’s toadies. I’m sure they’re out in force by now, looking for you.”

“Uh…”

“Ah, fuck them. They have no right to keep you prisoner, and if they try to do so anyway, well, they’ll regret it. Alright, I’ve got the pensieve” he glanced at Tom and rolled his eyes. “Tom’s got everything of value he managed to get his hands on to carry off. You’ve got yourself, your wand and your cloak, correct? Good. Let’s get going then. Ladies? Are we ready to go?”

Harry2 realized then that the Hedwigs had apparently shown up at some point, and were perched across the room, chatting amiably. One flew to him, the other to the other Harry and landed on their respective shoulders.   
They left through the door and stepped out into what he realized was the cavern that held the chamber of secrets. They didn’t go there though, they went down another pathway on the other side and kept going, till they eventually came out in the forbidden forest. 

“Hang on.”

Other Harry grabbed his hand, and then he was being pulled through a straw. The pressure suddenly let up and he stumbled a bit and looked around. They were in the alley next to Gringott’s, in Diagon Alley, which was in London. 

Other Harry grinned and held a finger up to his lips. “Shh. I’m not technically supposed to do that without a license, or before I’m 17.” 

He grinned back. It seemed he had a ‘disregard for the rules’ no matter what world he was in. 

“Uh-oh. Trouble.” Harry suddenly cursed. “It looks like the minions are on the move already.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spotted no less than three of Dumbledore’s minions wandering down alley peeking in the stores. He must have already alerted the Weasleys as well, one of them was Arthur and he has that hen-pecked look he always gets whenever banshee-woman has been shrieking at him recently.” 

“Would you stop saying stuff like that? Mrs. Weasley is a wonderful woman.”

“She shrieks like a banshee, there’s no denying it.” 

While they stood hidden, Tom had lightened his hair to dirty blonde and made his eyes green like the Harrys’ were. Harry made both their hair the same color and put a concealer charm on their scars, and then removed Harry2’s glasses and cast a charm on his eyes to allow him to see anyway, before doing the same to himself. 

“Come on. Without your glasses, and being out of those rags, you look different enough they’ll probably have to look twice to realize it’s you. Let’s rock and roll.” 

 

Harry2 had been prepped beforehand on what to do and what sort of questions to ask—Harry had been through all this once before, even so, there were some new surprises this time around.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of your status with regards to the Black holdings?”

“Yes, I know, I’m Sirius Black’s heir.”

“Not only his. Arcturus and Melania Black both passed away recently—Mr. Black in the fall of 1991 and Mrs. Black just this past May. Sirius Black, as the only heir of the name, inherited by default. He was never convicted of the crimes that he was accused of, so there was no bar to him inheriting, however, as he was in Azkaban he never claimed any of it. You, as his heir, can claim the holdings and unfreeze them. You should go over the Black family’s holdings when you have a chance. They’re all in disarray and losing money. It isn’t critical yet, but it will become so if something isn’t done soon.” Harry2 just nodded dumbly as he recalled it was this very information—about Sirius, not his grandparents’—that had got him released from Azkaban before he would have started first year. So much lost time. 

In a daze, he signed what needed signing, accepted a small pile of keys, after having several vaults with only small amounts of money and nothing else combined with his trust vault. Harry had to prod him to remind him they wanted to visit the vault he’d inherited from Bellatrix Lestrange, a death eater who had supposedly adopted him before killing a mailman on his front lawn and torturing Neville’s parents into insanity. It was her personal vault, and held another of Voldemort’s horcruxes. He never would have even known any of this existed had he not been visited by himself from another world. Seriously—what was Dumbledore playing at? He’d kept him so isolated and confined that he knew practically nothing about his own life! He was beginning to understand why his counterpart had such a grudge against the man.

The trip down to the vault was uneventful, and the Hufflepuff cup was retrieved without fanfare. They left shortly afterwards and headed for Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor. 

Harry2’s head was still spinning as he nibbled at his sundae.

“All this time, I could have gone shopping in the muggle world, or come here, or …and I can’t believe the bloody Dursleys made 120,000 pounds off me while telling me how much it cost to bloody feed me. Like they ever did! Bloody bastards. And I have property I could have gone to and…bloody hell.” 

“I know just how you feel. The same thing happened to me, just when I was eleven.” 

“I’m not going back there.”

“If all goes how I hope it will, you won’t have to and there’s nothing he can do or say about it.” 

“Where are we going next?”

“How about we head off to Godric’s Hallow? You can see the house our parents were hiding in, you can meet Bathilda Bagshot—hopefully she’s still alive here and still has the trunk our parents left with her. We can see our parents’ actual house, and visit their graves if you like while we’re there as well.” 

“While you’re doing that, I’m going to go to the Riddle house.” Tom spoke up.

“We’ll meet you at no.12 Grimmauld Place in London.”

“I’ve been there before.” 

“Good. Be wary of the ring. There’s nasty inheritance magic on it. Don’t try to put it on. Bring it back with you. Harry can give it back to you and that should negate any ill effects.”

“Ah…yes, I had forgotten about that. That would have been unfortunate.” 

Tom finished the last of his sundae and apparated away shortly afterwards.

 

Harry2 fidgeted in his seat.

“Yes, I trust him.”

“How’d you know what I was going to ask?”

“We’re the same person, and you’re very easy to read. Another lesson from the Dursleys’ forgotten—don’t give pieces of yourself away, keep a poker face, or it can be used against you.” 

“Ron and Hermione are always accusing me of being too secretive.”

“Ron I can understand. He just blurts out everything that crosses his mind, and his temper is unfortunate to say the least. Hermione has some bloody nerve, she’s the most secretive person I’ve ever met.”

“Hermione? No she’s not.”

“Where does she live?”

“Um…”

“Does she have siblings?”

“N…uh”

“What’s her favorite color? Favorite food?”

“Um, well…”

“See? Ordinary everyday information, and you can’t answer a single question. She badgers everyone around her constantly about everything, and with us especially, she acts like she has the right to know every thought that crosses our minds, every dream we’ve ever had, and what color shorts we’re wearing that day. Tell her to fuck off.” 

“That seems to be your answer for everything.”

“I’ve found it works for me. Granted, it doesn’t always bring the desired results, but damn if it isn’t satisfying. I don’t know about you, but I had enough nagging from Aunt Petunia, I’ll be damned if I’m going to take it from someone my age as well. Keep in mind, people see her dragging you around bitching at you, see Ron doing the same thing and what does that tell them? It says ‘abuse me, I’m a doormat.” Not exactly the image you want to portray to the world. Friends have smaller boundaries than others, but there are still boundaries. Set them and enforce them, because if you don’t, they have no reason to respect them with regards to you. Did stalker girl ever apologize for trashing all your stuff when she took back the diary?”

“Huh? No…but…”

“Does Hermione regularly come up to your dorm, sometimes when you and the others are trying to get changed, and smirk at all of you before she starts ordering you all around?”

“Not often but…”

“Do you twist yourself in knots to keep Ron Weasley happy?”

“Friends make allowances and”

“Do you want to be in the middle of the Weasley-Malfoy family feud?”

“Well no but…”

“No buts. Set some boundaries. It gets easier the more you do it. Now, come on, let’s get going. I don’t want Tom to finish up before we do and be left cooling his heels at Grimmauld.” 

They sent the Hedwigs to wait for them at Grimmauld Place, and apparated off to Godric’s Hallow.

The two appeared in a stand of woods not far from the town center. Harry led them towards the war memorial in the middle of the square. Harry2’s eyes widened as they approached—the statue changed; instead of three soldiers, it was a man, woman and a baby. It was himself and his parents.

“Weird, huh? I had the same reaction the first time I came here—gobsmacked and furious. How could there be stuff like this that everyone knows about, and yet not a single damned person ever thought to tell us, even though they all know, or should, that we knew nothing.”

They stared at the statue for a few minutes, and then Harry tugged at his sleeve to get him moving again.

“Come on, we’ll go see the wreck and then see if Bathilda’s about.”

 

“I can’t believe there was a whole trunk of stuff belonging to my parents just waiting for me, and I never would have known it…um, is this the place? It’s kind of creepy.”

“Yeah, it is. Welcome to Number 12, Grimmauld Place. I never saw it before it got cleaned and fixed up. Sirius was in St. Mungo’s for weeks recovering from Azkaban, and I was living at the Dursleys. Sirius’ grandpa, grandma and I think an old aunt showed up at the hospital to say hello and they sent their house elves to help Kreacher get the place cleaned, fixed up and child-proofed before either of us ever stepped foot in it. I can’t believe they’re dead here, although I do remember Andromeda saying that Arcturus was on his last legs but got a new lease on life when Sirius was released. If I had found out everything a few months sooner, maybe his other grandpa might have survived a few more years too, who knows? It sucks because, not only do you never get to meet them, Sirius never has a chance to reconcile with any of them. I remember he was really confused by the warm welcome, and he really misjudged some things…I think it helped him heal. I hope he’ll heal as well without it. From what you’ve said, in this universe, Lucius and Narcissa are probably out as well…Andromeda and Ted should still be ok, and Nymphadora, so there’s that at least, but damn.” 

“Is it safe to go in?”

“Let’s find out. We have to get the locket for your Voldemort problem to be taken care of, so we don’t really have much choice in the matter.”

“I think I like my house better.”

“I like it too, but this place is pretty awesome when it’s fixed up. I’ll have to show you later in the pensieve. I brought it along because I figured we could further compare notes that way—it’s different hearing about something than it is seeing it in living color.” 

Harry led the way to the front door and searched the shadows. 

“Doesn’t look like Tom’s arrived yet. Oh well. Come on. Tap your wand on the door there where the paint’s scuffed.”

The door swung open with an eerie creak and let out a waft of stale, dusty air. The house was oppressive and positively reeked of black magic. 

“Bloody hell.” Both Harrys whispered together.

“This place is nothing like the Grimmauld Place back home…it’s dark, yeah, but its comfortable dark, you know? This place is creepy and evil feeling…” 

They both lit their wands to light the way, and shut the door behind them. In the gathering twilight, the house was very dark, and had a feel of crouching menace. They could hear things skittering in the walls, dust lay heavily over everything, and the curtains, furniture and wallpaper were rotting away. It was the single most uninviting place either had ever been in—and considering some of their adventures over the years, that was really saying something.

A bloodcurdling shriek broke the silence and their hearts both nearly stopped in fright, even as they jumped aside as tattered black curtains flew violently open right beside them.

“FILTH! BLOOD TRAITORS! HALF-BLOOD SCUM! MUDBLOODS AND WEREWOLVES! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!”

Harry could only stare, appalled, at Walburga’s portrait.

“Lady Black…what happened to you?” he whispered. He honestly felt like crying. 

Walburga Black, Sirius’ mother. In his world she was a stately, stern lady with a snappish temper, enough pride for any ten people, and she didn’t suffer fools gladly--but he liked her. They had gotten on famously from the moment they’d met, much to Sirius’ chagrin. He usually visited with her once a week during the summers to update her on any gossip he’d heard, or to keep her informed on what he’d been up to. She was a wealth of knowledge on all sorts of topics, and she had a bizarre, offbeat sense of humor. This Walburga was nothing like that. She looked ancient, not like a witch of sixty at all. Her eyes were rolling madly in her face, and her lips were twisted in a mad scowl…she was drooling even! Her hands were skeletal and twisted into claws. She looked completely deranged and was chained to the wall in her portrait. She’d yet to stop screaming and cackling at the top of her lungs. Worse yet, all the rest of the portraits in the house sounded equally mad and were shrieking as well.

Harry raised his wand in shaking hand and pointed it at Walburga’s portrait. “Immobulus.” 

Walburga cut off mid-shriek, and her portrait froze in place, looking for all the world like a regular muggle portrait. The rest of the portraits fell silent when she did, leaving an echoing silence that rung in their ears.

“What the hell?” Harry2 demanded.

“I don’t know. That’s Sirius’ mother, but she’s all wrong. The portrait I know, her hair is still mostly black, and she’s thin but healthy looking, and she’s not a mad, cackling thing! We’re friends, she and I, I call her grandma! She’s never once mentioned me being a half-blood, and we’ve had muggles and muggleborns in the house…hell, we held Nymphadora and Barty’s wedding here, and she’s a half-blood with a muggleborn father! She was so happy that Sirius returned, and that the house got fixed up again. She died of a broken heart—her whole family was shattered and she spent the last few years of her life mostly alone in this big house that used to be full of people. I don’t understand this at all! Call Kreacher. You’re wearing the Black ring, he should answer you.” 

“Um, Kreacher?”

“What is filthy blood-traitors doing in the house of Black? Mistress will be most displeased, yes she will. We must be ridding the house of Black of such filth…”

“Kreacher! Show yourself!” 

A filthy, wizened house elf crept out of the shadows and glared at them both with eyes full of malevolent hatred.

Harry2 swallowed and glanced at his counterpart for guidance. Harry just nodded to remind him why they were there.

“Fetch Master Regulus’ locket. We’re going to destroy it.” 

 

Tom found them sitting, pale and subdued, on the front steps of Grimmauld Place two hours later, stroking their respective Hedwigs. He looked rather subdued himself, and had gained a friend along the way.

“That’s a really big snake.”

“Her name’s Nagini. She’ll be coming with us.”

“You’re not allowed to eat Hedwig. Either one of them.”

The snake lifted her head from Tom’s shoulder and glared at him balefully, before giving a dismissive little tongue flick and settling back down to sleep.

“I’ve got a surprise.” Tom spoke up. He held up what they both realized was a small cage that he was carrying in one hand. 

“Is that Pettigrew?” Harry2 gasped.

“Yes. He was at the Riddle House with a piece of my counterpart and another young man, who I believe you at least will recognize…Barty Crouch Jr.”

“Barty? Wait…he was with you? The other you, piece of you…you know what I mean.”

“He was a death eater in this world, and he seems to be quite deranged, both from his stay in Azkaban and the years under imperious. He’s the mouse.” 

Tom turned the cage slightly and they could see there was a small, ragged mouse in the cage with Pettigrew. 

Harry slumped and stared at the mouse numbly. He really hated this world—everything was all wrong here.

“I guess introducing him to Dora is out of the question then…unless she’s a death eater in this world too. It would hardly surprise me at this point.”

Tom eyed them a moment and then glanced at the house behind them. “Did something happen in there?”

“It’s horrible in there. Walburga in this universe spent her last days wearing the locket and it drove her quite mad. The portrait just kept screaming and screaming and it feels evil in there. We got Kreacher to tell his story and retrieve the locket for us, then we had him put all the portraits in the attic and put them to sleep.”

“Then he beheaded him and hung his head on the wall.” Harry2 added, sounding like he still couldn’t quite believe it.

“It’s what he wanted.”

“You just cut off his head and mounted it on the wall! Why do you even know a spell that does that?”

“Because we beheaded Kreacher in my world as well. It was New Years, the remaining members of the House of Black gathered and we had a retirement party for him. At the end of the night, everyone said goodbye, thanked him for his long service, and we beheaded him. He died with a smile on his face, and the other elves talked about what a lovely send off it had been for weeks. The part you don’t seem to be getting is that house elves love to work, they love to feel appreciated and wanted by their families. To them, a house elf who can’t work is a shame and a disgrace. Getting beheaded when you’re too old to work, and having your head on the wall so you can be with the family forever and lovingly remembered for your work is a great honor so far as they’re concerned—it might not be our idea of a fine send-off, but it was Kreacher’s idea of one. He was old, alone, mad and suffering for years. It would have been churlish of me to deny him his ease when I could provide it.” 

“Still…I hope to god Hermione never gets wind of this.”

“Tell her to…”

“…fuck off, I know. SPEW is really that bad of an idea?”

“SPEW?” Tom repeated with a laugh.

“The Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare.” Harry snickered, before turning back to his counterpart.

“Her heart may well be in the right place, but she’s definitely going about it all wrong; trying to trick the Hogwarts house elves into taking clothes…”

“She what?!” Tom barked. “Who the hell does she think she is? What was done to her when they went on strike?”

“Um…nothing. No one knows but me and Ron. Dobby took over taking care of Gryffindor tower. He used to be Lucius Malfoy’s elf. I tricked him into freeing him at the end of my second year. Dumbledore hired him to work at Hogwarts for pay. He collects the hats she hides and wears all of them at once.”

“Tell Professor Sprout when you get back to school. She’ll set her straight. She’s lucky she didn’t end up in Azkaban, or that the elves didn’t become enraged and try to kill her. Hogwarts is their home; they were born there—the students are guests who stay for a short time and then leave."

"Essentially, what she tried to do was the equivalent of moving into say, the Weasley’s house as a short term guest, and then trying to evict them without wands or the possibility of ever getting them again, and telling them it was for their own good."

“If we’re not staying here, where are we going? The Ministry is closed for the night, so we can’t take our prisoners in.” Tom interjected.

“Let’s head back to Potter Keep. Harry got the trunk, so we can furnish the place enough to stay the night. We reset the wards while we were there, so it should be safe enough.”

Hedwig and Hedwig took off, preferring to fly rather than be apparated again. The three boys disappeared a moment later. 

 

All was quiet for a while, and then several cracks sounded on the stairs the boys had just left. The new arrivals scanned the street warily and then darted inside, all except for one, a large black dog, who lingered to sniff at the stairs, his tail wagging in happiness, even as a distressed whimper made its way up his throat. He could smell Harry! Harry had been here, sitting on the steps…for awhile to judge by how strong the scent was. How had he known where to find him? Why had he shown up? Had he come here looking for help? What if he had, and he wasn’t here….he was gone now, what if something happened to him?

“Sirius!”

The dog perked up its ears and darted inside, barking in joy, certain his lost godson must be within. He skidded to a halt in the front of the stairs, his claws clicking on the exposed wooden floor. He could smell Harry, just like out on the steps! That was when he realized the others were all standing stiffly, wands out and looking around as though expecting to be attacked at any moment.  
He transformed back into his human form and opened his mouth to question everyone’s behavior…that’s when he noticed.

“What happened to mother’s portrait?”

“What happened to all the portraits you mean.” Kingsley Shaklebolt interjected, while pointing towards the upper landing, which they could see from where they were standing. The walls were studded with clean spots where portraits had once hung.

“Is there a new head up there?” Remus suddenly asked.

Sirius turned to look and realized there was indeed a new house elf head on the wall. It was clean, unlike the rest which were laden with dust and cobwebs. He trudged up the stairs and looked at the head in disbelief.

“Kreacher.” 

“Whoever was here before is gone now. The house is empty.” Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody announced as said ‘mad-eye’ finished scanning the premises.

“Spread out and search. See if anything else is missing or has been disturbed.” 

“I’ll send word to Albus. It looks like we’ll have to reconsider using this place as headquarters—it’s already been compromised.”

“That doesn’t make any sense though! Albus is holding the wards!” Remus cried.

“He makes a good point…the only one who could compromise Albus’ hold on the wards is the owner…” Mad-eye growled suspiciously. “Decided to let your little Death Eater friends in to play, Black?”

“I’m not and I never was a bloody death eater you paranoid old berk! Plus, in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve been with all of you this whole time!” 

“Arranged yourself an alibi, how convenient! I knew we should have hauled your worthless ass back to Azkaban! Albus is too bloody kindhearted for his own good!” 

Sirius’ bared his teeth in a savage snarl and raised his wand to start firing back hexes at Mad-eye, who was doing his best to subdue him.

“Bastard! I’m innocent! I’m innocent and I am not going back to that hellhole! I’d sooner die!”

“That can be arranged!” 

Remus and Shaklebolt dove out of the way of the flying curses and hexes, and pulled their own wands to defend themselves.

“Stop it! Both of you!”

“Damn it! Have you both gone mad!” 

Amidst all the noise and confusion of the wizard’s duel that was taking place in the front entryway, none of the men noticed that new arrivals had appeared from below.  
Albus Dumbledore disarmed all four men and sent them flying away from each other to smash into the walls.   
“What on earth is going on here?” Minerva McGonagall demanded at the same time.  
Severus Snape lurked behind both of them like a sneering, malevolent shadow. The frozen tableau shattered a moment later when the front door opened and Arthur Weasley, Daedelus Diggle and Elphias Doge bustled in, muttering imprecations against Harry Potter under their breath while they did so. They all stopped dead at the edge of the entryway to take in the scene.  
Albus Dumbledore drew himself up to his full, considerable height and glared down at Sirius with thundering disappointment.

“I was rather concerned earlier, when we tried to access the floo, only to discover that floo access has been blocked, and my hold on the wards has been negated. I had feared an attack and temporary wards to stymie my entrance. Imagine my surprise then, to find you, Mr. Black, attacking when I arrived!”

Sirius growled—a sound that should have come from his canine alter-ego and not his human throat. Though he’d been out for nearly a year, it was a year on the run—the marks of his time in Azkaban still weigh heavily upon him. He looked waxen, and quite deranged. McGonagall, Snape, Arthur, Daedelus, Elphias and Moody all joined Dumbledore who had his wand trained steadily on the ex-prisoner. Sirius began to laugh—a broken, bitter sound that cut everyone who heard it like broken glass.

“Showing your true colors, are we? I should have known better, I suppose—after all, you’re the same lousy, treacherous bastards that left me to rot in prison in the first place!”

Remus flung himself in front of his friend and held out his arms to block anyone who tried shooting. 

“Stop this now, all of you! You’re all making a terrible mistake!” 

He had buried his head in the sand last time, and failed his friend terribly. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. After a moment, Shaklebolt joined him and held up his hands in front of himself in a vain attempt to calm everyone down. 

“Kingsley, I’m surprised at you!” Elphias Doge wheezed “You’re an auror, man! Look at you! Siding with werewolves and criminals against Albus Dumbledore!” 

“For shame, Kingsley! For shame!” Daedelus Diggle squeaked in support.

“I for one knew you couldn’t resist showing your true colors for long.” Snape sneered in delight, already imagining his hated childhood nemesis back rotting in Azkaban—Lupin was a bonus. 

“Would all of you just bloody well shut up and listen for one moment!” Remus shrieked with uncharacteristic fury. 

The full moon was the following night—which made it a very bad time to be attacked and turned on by supposed friends; the wolf was close to the surface and it was harder than usual to fight back the urge to simply tear his way through the lot of them.

“Watch out, everyone! He’s going feral!” Doge shouted. 

“That is ENOUGH!” Shaklebolt shouted with real exasperation. “Sirius didn’t attack anyone, he was defending himself from Moody who attacked him, when we discovered someone had been in the house while we were out! Now, all of you bloody well put your wands down, or I’m taking the lot of you in for attacking an auror!” 

Brave words, which he had little or no chance of backing up at the moment, but damn it—he’d been out looking for some brat kid for hours with no luck, and now had the wands of a half-dozen people who were supposed to be allies trained on him, and he had to go to work in an hour for the late shift! He was in no mood for any of this.

“Bind them.” Dumbledore sighed tiredly. “These are dark times we are living in. We must be certain.” 

Sirius and Lupin fell to the ground as they were wrapped in rope from ankle to shoulder. Kingsley was hit with a body bind and moved out of the way. He was an auror, and a former Hufflepuff—he was obviously just being misguided by his kind heart and a misplaced sense of loyalty. 

Sirius and Remus, though Gryffindors--which would usually be enough to assure most of them (barring Snape, of course) that they were beyond reproach as a matter of course-- had strikes against them. Remus, through no fault of his own, was a dark creature. Sirius, also through no fault of his own, had been born into a dark wizard family of blackest evil. It was in the blood. Though both had tried to rise above their worse natures, well, it was a fact that they could never be quite as effortlessly good as the rest of them. If they should prove innocent, well, they were sure to forgive them—they could hardly fault them for taking basic precautions, or needing to check the veracity of their stories—dark blood so often won out in the end, didn’t it, in spite of best efforts to the contrary…and so few of those so cursed could even muster up the gumption to try in the first place. No, it would be the height of folly to simply trust them at their word. 

“Severus?”

“Already ahead of you, headmaster.” The dark potions master crooned gleefully. 

He withdrew a small vial of veritaserum from the inner pocket of his robe and approached the two bound men with a satisfied smile. They deserved it, the both of them. They had run through his seven years of school like a pack of baying hounds and gotten naught more than a pat on the head for their torment and torture of the rest of the student body. Let them see for once what it was like to be on the other side of the headmaster’s favor. A quick stunner left Sirius limp on the floor. Snape pushed him onto his back with his foot and then crouched down to administer the three drops of serum. Dumbledore floated him to a chair once the deed was done and re-secured him, before enervating him. 

Remus watched in impotent fury as his friend was betrayed and treated like a criminal, all undeserving, for a second time. He knew his turn to prove he was still a ‘good little doggy’ who hadn’t slipped his leash was coming soon. No matter how many times it happened, it still hurt—every time. Much as he always did, he swallowed it down deep and pretended it didn’t, and that he was only too happy to be given scraps from the table and an occasional pat on the head. What choice did he really have? As a werewolf, it was this, or living as a savage cannibal with the likes of Fenrir Greyback out in the back woods somewhere. 

He listened to Sirius’ monotone answers with half an ear, while he did his best to re-chain his beast. It wouldn’t do to get snarly with the masters—they didn’t like that.

 

“So, this thing will let you look at other people’s memories?”

“Yeah. I can go first if you like. Is there anything in particular you want to see?”

“Uh…well…I’d like to see a lot of things. Show me when you got your letter.”

“The first one or when Hagrid came?”

“Hagrid. How’s he doing these days in your world? Did he become the COMC professor there too?”

“No, he died battling aurors while trying to protect a baby dragon he hatched in his hut that escaped and nearly burned down the mountain and the castle. The whole bloody school—minus Slytherin, who didn’t know anything was happening, since they can’t see the grounds from their common room—was out there for hours battling the fire while the teachers were fighting Quirrel.”

“Bloody hell. So…Hagrid’s dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I guess it’s a good thing me and Hermione smuggled the thing out of the country then.”

Harry laughed delightedly. “You did what? And Granger helped you? Wow, I have a hard time picturing that. My Granger had to be bullied into taking part in a food fight along with the rest of the school; I honestly can’t picture her smuggling a dragon.” 

As they continued trading stories, Harry2 decided the pensieve was the coolest creation ever. Being able to share his various adventures over the years like this, and being allowed to get a new perspective on them himself, was incredibly therapeutic. When he’d faced Quirrel, when he’d battled diary-Riddle and the basilisk, he’d been alone both times. He had told his friends afterwards, the bare details at least, but he’d never really been able to share how terrifying and horrible it all had been, or how alone he’d felt both times, or express the fears and doubts that had assaulted him both times. Being able to do so like this, with someone he knew really understood—it meant everything. 

Ron and Hermione were great—they were his best friends, and he loved them and they’d stuck by him through a lot—but always, when it came down to the big moments, he was alone, and everything rested on him. Neither of them had ever been in that position, not really, and they’d always had loving families to depend on and take care of them—he’d never had that. They were always after him to share more of how he was feeling, but he was never quite able to open up to them all the way, because they wouldn’t understand, even if they wanted to, because they’d never experienced the same things. 

In a way, his counterpart was lucky in his two best friends—Neville’s parents had been tortured into insanity; they were still alive, but they didn’t know him. He was raised by his gran, who though she cared about him, often seemed to be subtly punishing him for not being his father. Luna’s mother had died right in front of her when she was eight, while working on an experimental charm. She still had her father, but he had become scattered and a bit vague after his wife died, and so she’d been left to at least partially raise herself. Their shared tragedies and difficult childhoods had added a dimension to their friendship that his with Hermione and Ron lacked—not because they cared any less, but because they didn’t have the same frame of reference—though their shared adventures made up for that lack at least a little bit. 

“I’m going to have to suggest that game you all made to Hermione. She’ll probably love the idea of a way to get Ron interested in studying. You all really seem to get into it.”

“You can tell her quite truthfully that it’s both fun and educational.”

“I wish I’d chosen different electives.”

“You can study on your own, you know. I don’t know if there’s a scientific alley in this world, or if the Bell’s shop exists here, but you can look into it. You should also look into taking on a few extra languages like I did. You should also ask McGonagall to send you the muggleborn introductory pamphlets. I doubt she realizes you never got them, or that you have such large gaps in your knowledge of the wizarding world.”

“Huge gaps indeed. I’ve learned more about the wizarding world in the last few days than I have in all the years I’ve spent at Hogwarts.”

“It’s never too late to catch up, though you better move fast before your years at Hogwarts are over with. The connections you make there are going to determine the rest of your life in a lot of ways. We’re a small enough community, that being a virtual stranger to most of it is going to hurt you a lot more than you realize.”

“And I’m the only one of my group of three who has no friends outside the group.”

“From everything you’ve told me and shown me, they seem to have mostly been good friends to you, but they monopolize your time in a way that limits you—and they don’t allow the same limits on themselves. It would probably do you some good to branch out a bit, broaden your perspective and whatnot.” 

“Yeah.” 

Harry2 yawned suddenly and blinked his eyes as the past few days caught up to him—again.

“Undoing horcruxes is hard work. I was usually wiped out for at least a day afterwards. The one in me wiped me out for the better part of three days—I was more tired than usual and just sort of drained. Get some sleep, you probably need it.”

“That sounds like a good idea, actually. See you in the morning, I guess.” 

 

After Harry2 went off to bed, Harry went looking for Tom. He found him on a balcony that overlooked Godric’s Hallow, looking at the stars. It was a pretty enough view, though it had nothing on the spectacular nighttime display in the elemental world they’d just left—even here, there were too many electric lights to really see the sky in all its glory.   
He was aware of his presence immediately, because he began speaking as soon as Harry arrived in the doorway.

“I didn’t tell you earlier, but I retrieved the diadem as well. It wasn’t at Hogwarts, like it was supposed to be, it was at my father’s house along with my alternate. He reincarnated himself using a dark ritual to take over the unborn child of a woman named Bertha Jorkins. He was, in some bizarre manner, Barty Crouch Jr.s younger half-brother. He was rather grotesque. He looked like he’d been flayed and then tossed on a fire to burn for a few hours, and he had spindly arms and legs that couldn’t support his weight. The house was a crumbling, dank ruin, and he was ensconced there in a tall wingback chair, like it was a throne, while Crouch and Pettigrew scurried around waiting on him. He was laying out his plan for the future. Crouch was going to impersonate Alastor Moody, an auror, who is supposed to be taking over the DADA position this year. They were going to force Harry to compete as a fourth champion in the upcoming Tri-Wizard Tournament and then use the trophy cup to whisk him away to the graveyard in Little Hangleton so his blood could be used to restore him to full strength. It was easy enough to get the drop on them. My counterpart started screeching at me, and enumerating the many, many horrors I would face for my betrayal, but I wasn’t listening. I was too transfixed by what I had become. I pointed my wand at him, and I hit him with a concentrated burst of remorse. I used the basic principle behind the patronus. It looked rather like a bruised cloud—not very pretty in the least. He started screaming and writhing and I had to cover my ears, because it hurt to hear it, and I could remember too well going through it myself. The golem body he made for himself disintegrated into a pile of black ooze that smelled like a weeks-old carcass, and his spirit was gone. I secured Pettigrew and Crouch and then I threw up in the corner. I searched the house afterwards and found the diadem, and then I went down to the shack to secure the ring. I met Nagini along the way. She thought I was him, and that I done the ritual with your blood to restore myself—he’d apparently been telling her about it. She said you must be a very worthy enemy to have helped so much. I told her we’d be going someplace new, and she just climbed on me for a ride, and asked if Pettigrew and Crouch were presents for her.” 

Harry snickered just a bit.

“When I checked over the diadem and the ring, I realized neither was a horcrux anymore. The cup isn’t either. I checked it over while you and the other Harry were talking earlier. I realized then that you were all that allowed me to survive. You undid the horcruxes one at a time and spaced them out, and the one in you strengthened me and kept me anchored through the rest of them. He didn’t have that luxury. I made him feel everything at once, and he was no longer anchored to the Harry of this world. I was trying to help him; instead, I at the very least killed him…or I may have obliterated the rest of his soul, I just don’t know.” 

“Why don’t we find out?”

Tom blinked and looked at Harry with bemused interest. “Are you secretly a necromancer and I never realized?” 

“No, but I don’t have to be. Our ancestors were.” 

“Our ancestors? What are you…?”

“Do you have the ring handy?”

“The ring? Slytherin’s…”

“Not Slytherin’s, Cadmus Peverell’s ring.”

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled it out. It was a heavy gold band, set with a dark stone, and incised with the triangle and circle bisected with a line symbol that denoted the deathly hallows. 

“Turn the stone three times and call him. Only the holder of the stone can see or hear those called. Don’t hold him here for too long—it hurts them, and it takes a toll on you as well.” 

“I never knew.”

“I doubt your uncle or your grandfather did either. They knew it was important, but they didn’t know the real reason why, it seems. The only reason I knew what it was is because I’m friends with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. There’s a children’s story in the Tales of Beedle the Bard—there’s a copy among my books if you want to read it. The tale of the three brothers, it’s called.”

“I actually did read it already—I was intrigued by the runes, and I’d never heard any of the stories before. So it’s the resurrection stone then? And you and the other Harry have death’s invisibility cloak—or rather, Dumbledore did…and he has the elder wand as well…he took it from Grindlewald.” Tom murmured with sudden insight.

“Not unless they dueled one another prior to their fight to end the war. He had the wand already as a teenager—there’s a picture of him and Grindlewald as teens in Bathilda Bagshot’s house—Grindlewald is her great-great nephew by marriage. You can see the handle sticking out of the inner pocket of his jacket.”

“No wonder he’s led such a charmed life. It’s supposed to be the most powerful wand in the world.”

“And yet he feared to face you one on one unless he couldn’t help it. I think the rumors about its awesome powers are somewhat exaggerated—powerful, smart, ambitious wizards have gone searching for it again and again and it has passed from hand to hand, always in the center of great conflicts. Such persons as would have had the wand would have done impressive magic anyway, and they were all defeated by the next up and comer with a yen for power. The stone, it can call back the spirits of the dead, but it can’t resurrect them, not truly. As for my cloak, well, I’ve never had a chance to flee death’s approach while under it and I don’t really want to try testing it out.” 

“Hmm, point. I guess I won’t bother stealing the wand then. I have my yew and phoenix feather wand back anyway.”

“Eh, if you get a chance to, go ahead. If you’re happy with the wand you have, just do a priori incantatum and download the memory of the elder wand into your own, and then leave the wand for Dumbledore to collect somewhere. I had always planned to do much the same with our Dumbledore—this way I won’t be the only one having all the fun.”

Tom laughed delightedly, and Harry smiled, entranced by the sight, until he tore his eyes away to stare back out at the night. He startled slightly when Tom leaned against the balcony railing next to him, close enough that their upper arms were touching. He had the ring and was twirling it idly in his hands as he stared out into the night as well.   
“Ah, Harry, you always do manage to amuse me so. I was feeling utterly wretched when you came out here earlier, you know.”

“Feeling better now?”

“Yes, much.”

“Well then, my work here is done.”

“Leaving already?”

“We need to be at the Ministry first thing tomorrow.”

“So we do.”

“Have fun talking to yourself…you know what I mean.” Harry laughed as he turned slightly to face the other boy.

Tom flashed a small grin of amusement at him and turned inward towards Harry as well. The smile slowly faded from his face and his eyes sparked with some unreadable emotion. He licked his lips and Harry felt a brief, tentative touch against his arm. Tom tensed slightly and his lips parted as though he would speak. Harry looked at him questioningly, but the moment passed. Tom patted his arm awkwardly and stepped back. Harry could only watch, confused. He could almost feel him distancing himself. 

“Goodnight Harry.” 

Confused, and perhaps a bit hurt, Harry just nodded and tried to smile.

“Goodnight Tom.” 

He hesitated for just a moment and then left. Tom watched him go, and then huffed a bit in frustration, before running an agitated hand through his hair, kicking the wall, and turning back to the view that had held him so entranced earlier. It wasn’t as interesting as it had been before. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when an identical pair of hands gripped the rail beside him—identical, but for the fact that they were ghostly and see through.

“I suppose it’s actually a good thing I’m already dead, or I might very well have dropped dead after witnessing that inept display.”

Tom turned and found himself looking at himself, at least a spirit version of himself, and one that looked slightly battered and worse for wear. He looked rather like a statue that had been shattered in several pieces and then glued back together.

Unconsciously, Tom’s hand rose to touch his own chest, and his counterpart smirked at him.

“Yes, yours looks like this too—well, a bit better, actually; small acts of kindness, trying to make amends where you can, and… love" he side eyed young Tom, who flushed "apparently all help. It seems Dumbledore was right about that much—though he doesn’t truly practice what he preaches. He’ll have his own reckoning. Give the ring back to Harry—my Harry— when you get a chance, if you would. I would like a chance to begin making amends where I can—and I haven’t as many opportunities and options available to me as you do. Now, as you can see, I am as well as can be expected under the circumstances…and truly, it isn’t what I thought it would be at all. You can let go of the last of your fear. We were wrong—very wrong, in fact. I can’t really tell you more than that.”

“Any other advice before I let you go?”

“I suppose—try to learn from your mistakes; you seem to be doing alright on that front so far. Try to embrace the second chance you were given. We were both so concerned with dying that we never really lived. You’ve been given a chance to correct that. Try to make the most of it.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Shak. Man, you look beat!”

“I am. No sleep, and I’m working the late shift.” 

“I hope it’s a busy night for you!”

Shaklebolt smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder as he moved past him to head for his desk. Aurors were a superstitious lot. They had noticed that anytime anyone was hoping for a quiet night, there was usually trouble all over the country that needed immediate response. So, in fine Auror logic, they had started wishing each other very busy nights when one of them was feeling a bit off and not up to dealing with trouble that night. It usually seemed to work—he hoped it held true for tonight as well.  
He was tired, he was irritated, and he was slightly uneasy as well. 

Albus Dumbledore had assured him Sirius Black was innocent, and that he’d seen proof that had convinced him of the fact. On the strength of that assurance, he had put his career on the line. He was in charge of the search for Sirius, and he had willingly looked the other way until they could secure the proof they needed to secure his release. He had joined the Auror Corps to help people, and in this case a man’s soul was on the line. All that, and yet tonight, just a few weeks later, he was willing to believe the man was evil, conspiring against them, and attacking. It was rather disheartening after his assurances—after all, he wasn’t the one putting his future on the line; he himself was.

That was bad enough, but then he was also drug out of bed shortly after falling asleep and sent out to look for Harry Potter, who may have run away, may have been kidnapped. Dumbledore had hinted there were signs of foul play, and that he had to be found immediately—and returned to the house he was possibly kidnapped from as it was the ‘safest place’ for him to be. 

A place you could be kidnapped from in broad daylight with no one the wiser for 48 hours didn’t sound very safe to him, but everyone else seemed to accept it.

Then there was the little matter of how Harry had gotten in to Grimmauld Place, or even knew where it was, to say nothing of his inexplicable actions once inside.   
He had never met the kid, and didn’t know anything about him, beyond what everyone did—he was James Potter’s son, and the Boy-Who-Lived. It was becoming obvious to him that he needed to do a bit of investigating.   
Maybe he could find something he could bring to his superiors that would be compelling enough to allow him to get out from under the Sirius Black case with a clear conscience. 

With that thought in mind, he sent off a general inquiry to Gringott’s and then went to the hall of records to do some light reading.   
There was no one on duty in the records archive—the Ministry was closed for the night, and only the auror office was still even partially staffed, and even there it was only a skeleton crew in case anything came up overnight. 

It took far longer than it should have to find what he was looking for—the hall of records was a mess—both Sirius Black and Harry Potter’s folders were misfiled, but he did find them, after a frustrating hour of searching. 

“Of course—I’m an idiot. Running around, acting like a muggle—accio Sirius Black and Harry Potter’s files!”

That’s when he ran into his second problem. Harry Potter’s file was sealed with an order from the Supreme Mugwump. 

He checked the time, but it was late enough, Dumbledore was probably in bed—he was an old man after all. 

He took both files back to his desk and then headed for Scrimgeour’s office. Rufus Scrimgeour was the head of the Auror Department, and he kept a complete set of books in his office that covered laws, procedures and paperwork for pretty much anything that had ever come up in all the time the department had been in existence. He had gotten teased a few times about being a bookworm, but then something had come up that no one knew how to handle. Scrimgeour had just smiled like a wolf and pointed to his bookshelf. It was in his outer office so that they could be accessed even if he wasn’t around. It was to them that Shaklebolt went now—first to the index to find the particular sealing order that had been used, and then to pull the four separate volumes in which it was mentioned. 

He was in luck. There had been a case in 1784 in which a file sealed by order of the Supreme Mugwump had needed to be opened, and the man in question had been unavailable. Since it needed to be opened in conjunction with a case being investigated, a minor quorum of Wizengamot members had made up a procedure to unseal records so sealed in such a case. The investigating Auror, a member of the Department of International Relations, and the night watchman of the Ministry could each sign a form known as XXX123 and override the Supreme Mugwump’s seal to aid an ongoing investigation—as that is what had been available at the time the incident had happened. It had been written up and passed without debate at the next gathering of the Wizengamot, as everyone had been briefed on what had happened, and simply made it retroactively legal. The only place it appeared was in the minutes for that particular meeting, but it was valid. A footnote gave the procedure to call up that particular form.

The Ministry, in an extremely rare flash of brilliance, had decided that, instead of mass-printing every possible form that might be needed, instead created a template that was mass produced that would allow you to simply make it the form you required on command. He grabbed one of the templates from the drawer on his desk and made form XXX123—Emergency Unsealing of Records for Auror Investigation. He smiled, filled it out and signed it, and then headed off to International Relations to see if anyone was in the office.

His luck seemed to be holding true. There was a light on in the office. 

“Hello?” he called as he knocked on the outer door of the office.

“Um…yes?”

“You must be a Weasley.”

The redhead in question grimaced just a bit, before pasting a professional smile on his face.

“ Percy Weasley, assistant to Mr. Crouch.” He introduced himself. “May I help you Auror…?”

“Shaklebolt, Kingsley Shaklebolt, and actually, yes you can. I need you to sign this form so that I can override a seal on a record to aid in an ongoing investigation.”

“Me? I’m sure Mr. Crouch would be better, but he left earlier. He seems to have suddenly taken ill.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but no, it only has to be a member of your department, and as you seem to be Mr. Crouch’s assistant on top of that, your signature will be more than sufficient for the matter.”

“Oh, well, alright then.”

Percy sat back down and took the form handed to him and read it over quickly.

“You’re trying to unseal Harry Potter’s records to aid an investigation? What’s he done now?” Percy huffed, sounding both angry and bitter. “At least I know he hasn’t nearly gotten my brother or sister killed this time!” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Since we’ve met that boy, he’s been nothing but a problem to my family! Since he’s been friends with him, my youngest brother has had his head knocked in by a murderous statue, stolen a car and nearly got killed smashing it into the Whomping Willow at Hogwarts, and had his leg chewed-on and broken by a murderous escaped convict—to say nothing of my little sister, who was nearly killed her first year at Hogwarts! All that, and yet for some reason neither mother, nor my sister will hear a word against him, and all my younger brothers start cracking their knuckles when I tell them they should stay far away from him!” 

Percy signed the order with a flourish and handed it back, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. 

“I hope you get him for whatever he’s done. Maybe my family will finally listen to me.” 

Shaklebolt took back the signed form and hesitated for a moment, before deciding to start with his records and work from there. 

“I’d like to talk you more about the incidents you’ve just mentioned later, if you don’t mind. I don’t believe our office has anything about murderous statues, or first years nearly dying at Hogwarts on record.”

“They wouldn’t—like I said, my family seems determined to stick by the boy to all our detriment.” 

The night watchman was duly hunted down and he was finally able to get to work. The file was accessible and able to be opened when he returned to the desk.

“Well now, Harry Potter, let’s see who you are…I can admit I’ve become quite curious over the last couple of hours.” 

 

“Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty.”

 

“Ungh…”  
“Come on, rise and shine. Here. Drink this, it should help.” 

Harry2 peeled open his eyes blearily and gave his far-too-awake-and-cheerful counterpart a dirty look, before taking the offered vial tentatively. 

“What’s this then?”

“Pepper-up potion. It should get you awake at least.”

Harry downed it and winced as steam shot out of both his ears, but he did seem more alert afterwards. 

“Come on, breakfast is on.”

The three teens ate—Harry2 twice as much as the others, and a nutrient potion to boot, but then he needed it more than they did. When they were done, Harry2 was given a set of nice robes to wear—nothing fancy, just plain, dark blue everyday robes, lightweight for summer, slit up the side to allow easy movement, and with a matching pair of loose pants and a sleeveless tunic to wear underneath, and he still had other Harry’s spare set of glasses, which had thin, barely noticeable frames, and were light and clear—quite different from Harry2’s bulky, oft-broken frames. Once he was dressed, Harry put some gel in his hair and worked his hair into a style that, while still messy, was less untamed, and looked purposefully done, rather than just sticking out all over the place.

“Why are we going to all this trouble? We’re just going to get Sirius cleared, right?”

“Whether it’s right or fair, people judge others by how they look, how they dress, and how they carry themselves. If you showed up wearing Dudley’s rags, with your hair all askew, wearing your funky glasses, on some level, the people you interacted with would be dismissing you out of hand, because you looked like a vagabond hoodlum who doesn’t give a damn. If you go in looking like a well-presented young man, your words will automatically be given more weight. Since what you’ll be doing is quite important—not just to you, but to Sirius—we want every advantage we can get.” 

“You sound like a Slytherin.”

“That’s not a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, cunning, or looking after you own interests—you were given a major malfunction about it so that you would be more pliable and easier to control.” Tom pointed out.

“Yeah, Dumbledore doesn’t hate Slytherins because they’re evil, but because they’re always wriggling away from his control and he doesn’t like it. Also, since you are actually the Heir of Slytherin now that the Tom of your world is dead, and you’re also a parselmouth, it would probably behoove you to not just go around slandering Slytherin as a matter of course. That isn’t to say that I expect you to lovingly embrace those Slytherins who have hurt you or acted as enemies in the past—just keep in mind that you don’t actually know any of the Slytherins outside that one little group of troublemakers. You should at least see if there are any of them worth knowing before tarring them all with the same brush.”

“They’re all death eaters and want me dead!”

“Both Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black were Gryffindors—one is believed to be a Death Eater, one actually was, and if there was one, there may have been more—and yet, I notice no one seems to ever suggest that all Gryffindors should then be ostracized, publically humiliated and treated like second class citizens because of it.”

“If we want to make our appointment, we should probably get going.” Tom interjected.

“Appointment?” Harry2 asked, successfully diverted from his moral crisis.

“Yes, I wrote to Madame Bones last night and asked for an appointment to speak to her this morning on a matter of utmost urgency. Just going in and asking to be seen would have ended up being a big, loud hassle and probably would have drawn attention we don’t want. Since the Minister of Magic himself is working against you, we don’t want that. So yes, I wrote directly to Madame Bones last night as soon as I knew we had Pettigrew.” Harry replied.

“I didn’t even think of that.”

“You’ve been trained to consider only Dumbledore as a proper channel of communications—any problems or concerns should be given to him to handle as he sees fit. When you get your muggleborn packet of information, I expect you to learn the names of the people and departments that are available to handle different sorts of problems in the future.” Harry pointed out. 

"You should also learn who their relatives are—you can use a need to speak to someone or other as an opening to chat up people you go to school with, just be smart about it, and consider how far and wide you want whatever information it is spread.” Tom added helpfully.

“You have the instinctive knowledge and understanding of how to operate successfully in a society like ours, though it was nearly squashed out of you in the years since you rejoined our world. You just need to relearn it and get practiced at it again.” 

They apparated away and reappeared in a dirty, smelly alleyway full of trash, and a broken phone box. Harry2 looked around in distaste, and then followed the other two into the phone booth with a look of bemusement on his face.

“This is the entrance to the Ministry?”

“Yep. You access it by dialing ‘MAGIC’ on the phone. Harry replied while doing so.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.” a disembodied woman’s voice spoke out of thin air.

“Harry Potter for an appointment with Madame Bones, Ignotus and Cadmus Peverell accompanying. ” Harry replied.

There was a clink and Tom dug out three badges that had appeared in the coin return slot and handed them out. Harry2 looked at his which said “Harry Potter Appointment DMLE” He looked over at Tom and the other Harry who were snickering at theirs which said Cadmus Peverell, Ignotus Peverell-Moral Support.

They put on their respective badges and the inside of the box began to lower like a lift. When they came to a stop, they stepped out into the atrium of the Ministry. Harry2 looked around in astonishment—it was a large room with a cavernous ceiling. Large fireplaces lined both walls and there was a steady stream of people exiting from them on all sides. In the center of the room was a massive golden fountain with statues of a wizard standing tall with his wand in the air, and beside him a witch, while around them were gathered a goblin, house elf and centaur. They were all gazing up at the wizard and witch with looks of fatuous adoration on their faces---an expression he was damn sure would never appear on the faces of actual goblins or centaurs, it was even a stretch for the house elf, which was really saying something.

“I know, awful, isn’t it?” Harry snorted disdainfully. He smiled then a slanted a sly look Harry2’s way. “Do you want to strike a subtle blow for freedom versus tyranny?”

“Yes.” Harry2 agreed immediately.

“How’s your transfiguration?”

“Not bad, I guess.” 

Tom did the centaur. He took away his look of fatuous adoration and left it looking wise and distant, and thinking deep thoughts, and turned his head slightly so that he was gazing up at the ceiling, not the wizard. A last twist made the ceiling dark blue with a smattering of stars like the night sky. Harry did the goblin, and made him stare straight out at the crowd, war hammer in one hand, bank ledger in another—fierce, intelligent and subtly dangerous. Harry2 gave the house elf a cheery smile and a quiet dignity, and made it gaze out over the crowd as well. 

Their work done, they drifted away from the fountain, keeping casual—no one had really noticed the changes yet, as everyone was hurrying to get wherever they were going. Harry led them to the wand check-in—(he and Tom registered their spare wands) and then to the row of golden lifts located just past it. 

The same disembodied woman’s voice announced the floors once they started moving. Once on the correct floor, Harry pushed Harry2 in the lead while he and Tom took up station just behind him, and prodded him to the correct location. 

There was a bored-looking secretary in the outer office. Tom cleared his throat to get her attention when they arrived.

Her eyes flicked to Harry’s badge, and widened, then she did a double take and looked somewhat flustered.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m here for my appointment with Madame Bones. Would you be so kind as to let her know I’ve arrived?”

“You’re Harry Potter!”

“That’s what they tell me, yes.”

Tom shifted his weight to draw the star-struck secretary’s eyes.

“It’s a matter of some importance.” He prodded, before flashing her his ‘sure to charm witches’ smile. 

Tom was a very good-looking guy, both normally, and in his blonde with green-eyes guise…in fact, he looked rather like a movie star. Far from nudging the secretary back to her duty, she simply went from star-struck to melting-into-a-pile-of-goo-with-damp-knickers, and smiled back, batting her eyes. 

“Madame.” Harry’s voice cut through her lusty haze like an arctic wind. “If you would be so kind as to inform Madame Bones of our arrival, I’m sure we’d all appreciate it…preferably if it happens some time before we all die of old age.” 

The secretary jumped, blinked, and seemed sort of surprised to realize there was anyone in the room other than Tom. She caught Harry’s gaze, which was as icy as his voice had been, before hurrying from her seat to inform Madame Bones they were there. Her hurried walk changed to a hip-swaying show when she was halfway across the room, and she even glanced back over her shoulder to see if Tom was watching, but caught Harry’s irritated gaze instead, and went back to hurrying.

Once she’d left the room, Tom smiled, looking rather smug.

“I’ve still got it.” 

“So I saw.” Harry replied, his voice curt.

“Madame Bones will see you now.” The secretary called from the doorway of the inner office.

 

Madame Bones greeted Harry and then turned to his two guests. Her eyebrow rose at their names. “Peverell? I thought that name died out centuries ago?”

“The English branch, Madame.” “Ignotus” replied, while leaning slightly over Madame Bones’ hand and brushing her knuckles lightly with his lips and introducing himself and greeting her in flawless French. Tom followed his lead and did the same.

Harry2 kept his face impassive by sheer force of will. He could not believe they were just lying right to Madame Bones’ face—but then he realized neither had actually lied—his counterpart had simply agreed the English branch of the Peverells died out centuries ago and spoke to her in French. She would make assumptions based on this, but neither had actually said anything that could be pointed to as a lie.

When they had all been seated, Madame Bones hesitated a moment, seeing both Harry’s seated right next to each other. They looked a lot alike, except one had blonde hair, and then she glanced over at Tom as well.

“You could be brothers.”

“More like very distant cousins, Madame.” Tom answered.

“Cousins?” she repeated, sounding shocked.

“Those who later became the English branch of the Peverells left France with William the Conqueror. One branch of the English Peverells later became the Potters.” Harry agreed.

“We are only very distantly related.” Tom added.

 

Harry2 almost had to bite his lip to keep from cackling. They still hadn’t lied—they had said true things that would simply be misconstrued, but he’d best interrupt while they were still ahead of the game.

“Madame Bones, as fascinating as I’m sure all of this is, I actually came to talk to you about an important matter that is of great interest to me. Given my last interactions with the Ministry on this matter, I’m taking a very big chance in coming to speak to you today, but I’m quite at the end of my rope, and I’m afraid if something isn’t done now” his voice cracked just a bit as it really came home to him how much rode on this interview—he held in his hands the only real possibility of Sirius keeping his soul, and his only real chance of having a home where the people in it wanted him before he graduated Hogwarts. 

Tom and his counterpart each lightly squeezed one of his shoulders. They had both helped him so much already—saved his life, in fact—it gave him the courage to continue. It helped that Madame Bones suddenly looked grave and attentive, though naturally quite confused as well.

“It regards the health and well-being of my godfather, Sirius Black, and the travesty of injustice that has been committed against him.”

Bones sat back with a look of disbelief on her face.

“Sirius Black? Convicted Death Eater, the man who killed over a dozen muggles with a single spell, who betrayed your parents to Voldemort, and escaped Azkaban to kill you?”

“Sirius Black, my godfather, who was framed for the murder of over a dozen muggles, and the betrayal of my parents, who was thrown in Azkaban nearly twelve years ago without being questioned, checked for imperious or being given the benefit of a trial, who escaped Azkaban to protect me and revenge himself upon the man that did it!” Harry growled back.

“Mr. Potter…” Bones began soothingly “I realize you must be rather overwrought at the idea that someone wants to kill you…”

She trailed off uncertainly when Harry2 just laughed bitterly. 

“Please. Lots of people want to kill me and have tried their best to do so. Having someone wanting to kill me actually makes me feel relatively normal, all things considered.” 

“Mr. Potter…”

“Perhaps it would be best to start at the beginning, and present what evidence we have on Sirius Black’s innocence. Once we have that out of the way, and his safety has been assured, we can worry about the attempted murders.” Tom interjected.

“Do you have a pensieve, Madame Bones?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Ah, it is good that we came prepared then.” Harry replied cheerfully as he pulled out the pensieve he’d borrowed from the room of requirement. “Please feel free to examine it before we get started.” 

 

“Enter.”

“Rufus, might I have a moment of your time?”

“Kingsley? What are you still doing here? Aren’t you off shift now?”

“Yes sir, and I’m hoping I can drop this in your lap and go get some sleep.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, especially first thing in the morning. What’s up?”

“It’s about the Sirius Black case, sir.”

“Finally have some progress to report? Good, I was beginning to wonder what was taking so long.”

“It’s not exactly progress sir, it’s about some irregularities I’ve uncovered.”

“Irregularities?” Scrimgeour growled.

“Were you aware that Sirius Black never actually received a trial?”

“Well, he was caught red-handed at the scene, and you know as well as I do that the courts were busy.”

“He was never questioned either. The first person on the scene was Cornelius Fudge, who at the time was Head of the obliviators squad. He questioned a few of the muggles that were nearby and obliviated them before law enforcement arrived on the scene. Sirius Black was taken directly from the scene and put in Azkaban. He was never questioned by anyone, he was never given a trial.”

“He was still caught red-handed.” Scrimgeour argued, though he was beginning to get a bad feeling about things.

“Were you aware that Harry Potter is Sirius Black’s godson?”

“Makes him all the more wretched, doesn’t it?”

“He’s also his heir. The last of the Blacks with the name just died in May, about two weeks before Sirius Black so suddenly and inexplicably escaped Azkaban. The goblins of Gringott’s tell me that Sirius Black inherited everything, which is not as big a deal as it might have been even just a decade ago, but is still, I’m told, substantial. As he was never convicted of any crime, there was no bar to him inheriting, but as he was in Azkaban, everything was in limbo. Harry Potter, as his heir, was able to unfreeze everything in his stead.”

“Odd, but once we put his conviction on the books, there’s no problem.” 

“Were you aware that Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange adopted Harry Potter an hour before being arrested?”

“Come again?”

“They adopted him, though no one seems to be aware of this fact since his record was sealed. He inherited their full estate, as well as a large portion of the estate of Pollux Black when he died, since Mrs. Lestrange was the eldest of his three daughters, but was unable to inherit due to having been convicted of a life sentence in Azkaban. When she was convicted, custody of Harry Potter reverted to Sirius Black, her cousin.”

Scrimgeour just looked at him.

“Were you further aware that Harry Potter did in fact actually encounter Sirius Black a few weeks ago at Hogwarts? He apparently told him the ‘he’ at Hogwarts he was looking for was not himself, but Peter Pettigrew, who had been James and Lily Potter’s secret keeper, and who had also blown up the street that day in order to fake his death? Did you also know that Harry Potter and his two friends who were there at the time purportedly told the Minister that they had seen a very-much-alive Peter Pettigrew with their own eyes, and that he confessed to both the crimes and the framing of Sirius Black, before escaping in the confusion, and it was apparently after this that the order to kiss on sight was given? As it stands now, Sirius Black is not an escaped criminal, he is a wealthy pureblood who was held illegally for over ten years in prison after having never been questioned or convicted, and now is being hunted by the government to have his soul eaten.” 

Scrimgeour glowered at him and then slumped in his chair. 

“Sonofabitch. I hate Mondays.” 

“Sorry sir.”

“You’ve written a…”

“Right here sir.”

“Go get some sleep. I’m going to dump this in Amelia’s lap.” Scrimgeour grumbled after taking the report Shaklebolt handed over.

 

Shaklebolt had just stood to leave when a knock sounded at the door and another Auror, John Dawlish, peeked his head into the door.

“Sir? We’ve got two guys who are supposed to be dead in interrogation room three, and Madame Bones just sent a couple of the guys to go round up Barty Crouch and Minister Fudge for questioning. You might want to come along too—one of the prisoners has some bearing on the Sirius Black case, and I know you’re heading that one.” He added to Shaklebolt. 

“You’ve got Pettigrew?” 

Dawlish looked surprised but nodded.

“Who’s the other guy?” Scrimgeour asked curiously as he came around his desk.

“Barty Crouch Jr.” 

“Who brought them in?” 

“You’ll never believe it, but apparently Harry Potter did.”

“Harry Potter is here? I’m going to strangle that kid when I see him.” Shaklebolt said conversationally. “I was out all day yesterday looking for him.”

“He was missing?”

“Yes, for going on four days now. It seems he was quite busy over that time.” 

“Four days? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“He was gone for a little more than two days before anyone noticed, and like I said, I was out yesterday looking for him along with some volunteers Dumbledore cobbled together—friends of his, mostly. We also had the help of a dog that knows what he smells like. It’s how I stumbled across all the information about the Blacks. We found traces of his scent at the Black family home Sirius Black grew up in. I did some investigating to figure out how he could have gotten in.”

“Black must have kidnapped him and taken him there.” Dawlish interjected.

“No. He didn’t.” Shaklebolt replied absently, which got him a sharp glance from Scrimgeour, who spoke up, voice casual.

“If we only had Black in custody as well, we could get the whole matter cleared up once and for all.”

Shaklebolt’s eyes widened at Scrimgeour’s words, and then he frowned and glanced at Dawlish. “You said she rounded up Fudge?”

“Yes.”

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a quick errand I need to run.”

Shaklebolt hurried off, and Scrimgeour held Dawlish back a moment.

“Send a couple of guys down to meet him when he returns. Under no circumstances is the prisoner to be harassed, harmed, or pushed around in any way, am I clear?”

“Who’s he bringing in?”

“Sirius Black.” 

 

“How can you two be so calm?”

“Because everything should be taken care of. Madame Bones believed you, and she’s got Fudge in an interrogation room right now, which means he shouldn’t be able to run off and try to have Sirius kissed while Pettigrew is being questioned—which he couldn’t do anyway, since he doesn’t know where Sirius is. Once he’s questioned, Sirius should be pardoned, and it’s all smooth sailing from there. If after all this they still refuse to listen to reason, well, we’ll just break out of here, try to find Sirius and make a run for France. You and he can claim political asylum, and they’ll grant it, if only to thumb their noses at England. You’ll have to go to Beauxbatons, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing considering what your years at Hogwarts have been like…

A stunner took Harry in the chest. Harry2, having had lots of people trying to kill him the last few years, was yelling in fright and rolling out of his seat before he even fully registered that anything was going on. He realized then that where Harry had been a moment before, there was now only a log with a dent in the front, then something white sailed overhead and landed in Tom’s hand. A flash of red came from across the room and impacted empty space and then something invisible thudded to the ground.  
Harry2 stayed down for a moment and then slowly and shakily climbed to his feet when nothing else happened. Harry walked over to the spot where the thud had come from and prodded it and then cast the counter to the disillusionment charm. Albus Dumbledore appeared face down on the floor.

“D-Dumbledore! But…but why did he attack us?”

“My guess is he came here to nose around and find out what was going on, and heard me talking about absconding to France so you could go to Beauxbatons and decided to get us out of the way so he could stop it from happening.” 

“This is a good day.” Tom said cheerfully.

Shaklebolt, Sirius, and two other aurors rounded the corner and took in the sight of Harry wrapping unconscious Dumbledore up in ropes.

“What’s going on here?”

“Sirius!” Harry2 shouted joyfully before running to him.

“This man attacked us and we subdued him.” 

Shaklebolt gestured to the two other aurors. Get him and bring him along. We’re questioning everyone else under the sun, might as well do him too.” 

 

Harry2 let go of Sirius and the group started towards the interrogation rooms, but when Shaklebolt opened the door he suddenly shouted in dismay and a panicked rat tore past him and into the hall. Harry2 reacted immediately and dove on the rat, pinning him to the ground, while the aurors dropped Dumbledore, who was still unconscious and started battling a smiling, cackling Barty Crouch jr., who was free as well and had a wand.

Harry2 sat up slowly, keeping a tight hold on Pettigrew who was squeaking and flailing for all he was worth. 

“HOMORPHOUS!” Tom and Harry shouted together, forcing him back into his human form. Harry2 backed away once he started changing and his stunner took him in the chest before he had a chance to flee. A quick search netted a wand hidden in Pettigrew’s pocket.

Barty jr. charged towards the doorway after taking down the three aurors, but Sirius tackled him to the ground. Tom’s stunner took Barty in the back and he went limp.   
Harry enervated the aurors, and sent them out to grab the escaped prisoners. Shaklebolt headed into the interrogation room, while the other two headed back into the hall.   
“TOM!” Harry called upon seeing the sight inside the interrogation room. 

He himself hurried forward and hurriedly began digging out his potions kit. Tom ran into the room and cursed before dropping down beside Madame Bones and beginning emergency healing treatment, while Shaklebolt did the same for Scrimgeour, leaving Harry to try to help the two aurors who were in the room. Barty Crouch sr. was beyond help—he was already dead. 

Harry2 and Sirius peeked in the room and blanched at seeing the bodies strewn everywhere. 

“Someone call St. Mungo’s, quick!” Harry shouted as he fed blood replenishers to the downed people.

Sirius obviously wanted to help, but he didn’t have a wand, and the aurors who were running to answer the shouts all had their wands trained on him. Harry2 wanted to help as well, but he kept himself firmly between the aurors’ wands and Sirius. 

It was complete pandemonium—people running and screaming everywhere, impeding the group of healers who were trying to get through, panicked aurors pointing their wands at everything that moved. Dumbledore had been enervated at some point and he seemed to be trying to take control of the situation—though he seemed to mostly be concentrating on trying to get Harry to leave with Arthur Weasley, who had shown up at some point, and return to the Dursleys. 

“You’re cracked if you think I’m going anywhere, old man. I’m staying with Sirius until he’s been cleared and that’s that. Instead of bothering me, you should secure Crouch and Pettigrew and make sure they don’t get away again—they’re the ones responsible for the mess in the next room!”

“Mr. Potter! How dare you speak to the headmaster that way!” Arthur sputtered.

“Fuck off, Arthur. My godfather’s life and soul are hanging in the balance, and I’m quite literally the only thing standing between him and a bunch of wands held by panicked aurors. Try doing something useful and leave me alone.” 

“Harry, my dear boy, I really must insist. Go back to your family and your home where you will be safe.”

“Your insistence means nothing to me, and those foul, abusive muggles you stuffed me with are not my family and that was not and never will be my home! Bugger off!” 

 

The aurors eyes darted between Dumbledore and Harry, while they kept their wands trained on Sirius. 

“What the hell are you all standing around for! You and you! Get the prisoners secured. You, headmaster, have no business here. Go back to Hogwarts. If anyone needs you for anything , we’ll be in touch. Weasley, you’re not part of this department, you can leave as well. You there, go with Shaklebolt and provide an escort to St. Mungo’s for Mr. Black. Stay outside his room. He doesn’t leave and no one goes in without my say so, but the healer in charge of his treatment. You, go get some house elves and have them clean up the interrogation room. You, get me a couple of dementors. I want them on the prisoners pronto! You, get me a scribe, some veritaserum and a judge!” Scrimgeour barked as he limped out of the interrogation room, leaning heavily on his cane.

“We’ll escort Mr. Potter home.” Dumbledore spoke up with a sickly smile. “If you would return my wand…”

“We will escort Harry to join his godfather at St. Mungo’s.” Harry sneered in a thick French accent. 

“As for the wand, Mr. Dumbledore, as I’m sure you are aware, it is a Peverell family heirloom. You attacked us, savagely and without provocation. If you think we are going to hand it back to you after that, you are a fool.” Tom sneered disdainfully. 

The three of them formed up around Sirius, and strode away behind Shaklebolt and Dawlish-- Tom and Harry bitching to one another in French about how horrible their trip had been thus far, surrounded by so many savages, and how Harry really would be better off among the French, who were far more cultured and civilized.

Bones, Fudge and the two aurors had been portkeyed to St. Mungo’s for further treatment once stabilized. A healer stayed behind to keep an eye on Scrimgeour, who had been badly hurt, but insisted on staying to keep an eye on things. 

 

After arriving at St. Mungo’s, Sirius was whisked off to the creature-induced injury ward. One auror followed him into his room to stand guard while the healer assessed him, the other—Shaklebolt, took up station outside his door. Harry, Harry2 and Tom sighed irritably and flopped down on the bench in the hall. Harry2 wrung his hands, while Tom and Harry starting casting cleaning charms on themselves to rid themselves of the bloodstains they’d both collected while helping stabilize all the wounded.  
Once Tom was satisfied with his appearance, he pulled out Dumbledore’s wand and his own and cast priori incantatum. 

“Why are you doing that anyway?” Harry2 asked curiously, trying to keep his mind off how badly everything had gone today. He had hoped to have Sirius free, clear and home with him tonight; it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

“Wands learn to do magic along with their wielder. I’m taking all the spell memories out of the wand and adding them to my own. This wand has been in use for a very long time, and it’s sure to have all sorts of interesting things on it.” 

When it seemed, at long last, that there were no more spells left stored on the wand, Tom handed it, handle first to Harry2.

“Here. It’s technically yours.”

“How is it mine?”

“It belonged to our ancestors' elder brother, but it was stolen.”

“Oh, here, before I forget, this is yours too.” Tom added, handing over the ring. “It belonged to my counterpart, but you’re his closet magical relative and his heir.”

“Dad’s cloak, the ring and the wand are part of a set. Do yourself a favor and don’t mention them to anyone. There are people out there looking for all three—Dumbledore is one of them.”

“If that’s the case, should we be talking about it in the open?”

“We’re speaking in parseltongue.”

“We are?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“My counterpart wants to talk to you. You can use the ring to call back his spirit for a short time.”

“Uh…”

“He’s dead, Harry. His soul has been put back together and he’s sane. He just wants to talk to you. Turn it three times and call him by name.” 

“The holder of the ring is the only one who can see or hear the people called back with it. Keep that in mind when you use it. Don’t let anyone put it on without your express permission. There’s a nasty bit of inheritance magic on it. It strikes down thieves with a withering curse, which is a slow, painful way to die.” 

“Urk.”

Not knowing what else to do, he eyed the ring dubiously for a moment and then slipped it on. At least that way, no one would pick it up and die from it.

 

“Is it just me, or does it sound like there’s a stampede headed this way?”

“A stampede and a circus…oh, god, it’s the Weasleys.” 

A crowd of red-heads, and one girl with bushy brown hair came around the corner at a fast walk, all of them talking at once. Molly Weasleys loud voice could be heard snapping orders and berating all the children with her…so could Hermione’s shrill shriek.  
Harry shuddered. Harry2 stared wide-eyed at the approaching horde. Tom looked vaguely stunned.

“HARRY!”  
“HARRY JAMES POTTER! OF ALL THE IRRESPONSIBLE…”  
“HARRY WHAT WERE YOU THINKING RUNNING OFF LIKE THAT…”  
“…HOW WORRIED…”  
“…HALF A MIND TO TURN YOU OVER MY KNEE…”  
“…ALL BEEN GOING BARMY, MATE, AND I HAD TO LISTEN TO…”

Harry2 lifted Dumbledore’s wand, which was on his lap and made a loud bang. The Weasleys and Hermione fell silent for a half-second, and then all started talking again, this time berating him for not only running off, but also for making so much noise in a hospital.

“WOULD YOU BIGMOUTHS SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY? Harry’s exasperated shriek cut across the noise.

Everyone fell silent for a half-second once more, and then the noise started up again, even louder, as Hermione and Molly started shrieking about foul language and the boys and Ginny started turning red and pulling wands to get the guy who just had the nerve to call them bigmouths.  
Tom silenced them all, Harry disarmed them and dumped the wands in Harry2’s lap.

“They’re your friends, you deal with them. Tom? Fancy some tea?”

“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“Do you want anything?”

“Uh, just get me whatever you’re having.”

That was when Harry2 noticed the Weasleys were eyeing all three of them as though they’d just killed an eaten a cute little puppy in front of them. Ginny especially was pale and her eyes looked too big for her white face.

“Uh…”

“Parseltongue.” Harry snickered into his ear, before sauntering past the Weasleys. “Auror Shaklebolt, we’re heading to the cafeteria. Would you or your partner like anything?”

“Some good, strong, black coffee wouldn’t go amiss. A couple of crullers would be nice as well.”

“Can do.” 

For all that Harry2 had vowed to be his own man from here on out, set some boundaries, and look after his own interests, it was very difficult to hold on to those promises under the full onslaught of the Weasleys (and Hermione) unleashed.

They all started talking at once again, leaning in all around him, demanding and prodding, and Hermione’s voice was growing more and more shrill the longer it took him to answer. He was exhausted and jittery, and still on edge about Sirius—what should have been a clear and simple clearing of charges had nearly turned into a massacre, and Dumbledore had attacked them…and Hermione’s voice went up a bit higher into supersonic range and went through his head like a drill…he shouldn’t have unsilenced them. He couldn’t think! How could he think, let alone actually answer any questions when they all just kept talking? He could barely make out what the individuals were saying—he tried to sort out who was saying what in some coherent order. 

Ron was ranting about poncy Slytherin bastards, and the fact that he was wearing new clothes and now thought he was too good for them.   
Hermione was just asking question after question—who, what, why, when, where—tell me tell me tell me.  
Ginny was shrieking about Voldemort and demanding to know how he could betray her like that after she was traumatized.  
Molly was yelling about him being too thin, and having to get him home to the Dursleys, and how could he run away, how irresponsible….on and on and on.

He could never seem to make anyone happy, could he?

Everyone’s voices started sounding like they were coming from far away, and he couldn’t breathe—he was completely surrounded on all sides, by people with red faces that were screaming at him. 

He couldn’t breathe…

Something crackly was shoved in his face and he became dimly aware of someone rubbing his back and there was some sort of commotion going on, but he couldn’t concentrate on any of it—his chest was tight and his lungs were burning and he felt dizzy and too hot, like the walls were closing in on him. 

Gradually the tightness in his chest loosened, and he was able to take a deep, normal breath. He tried to see what was going on, he was still rather dizzy. 

Molly Weasley and a dark-haired woman were fighting—Molly was screaming and she was red in the face, the other woman looked equally furious, but she was sneering down her nose and speaking very coldly without yelling. The Weasley children were being held off to the side by Tom and the other Harry, who had apparently returned while he was indisposed. Hermione and Ron looked furious and snippy--they both had their noses in the air and seemed to be talking down to Harry and Tom, who didn’t look either impressed or like they appreciated it. Auror Shaklebolt was trying to calm everyone down and drive them out of the corridor, along with what looked like two members of hospital security and an irate healer. Harry2 glanced to his side, where someone was still rubbing his back. It was a girl a bit older than himself—she looked about 18 or 20—with vividly pink hair. He recognized her, though he’d never met her.

“Nymphadora Tonks?”

The girl scowled at him. “Call me Tonks.”

“How about Dora? We’re cousins. One doesn’t normally call cousins by their last name—unless it’s Draco Malfoy, in which case I make an exception.” 

“I take it you’re feeling better, and no, call me Tonks.”

“It’s Dora or Pinkie, take your pick.” 

“You drive a hard bargain. Fine, call me Dora. I’ll make an exception for you.” 

“What happened?”

“You had a panic attack, by the look of it.”

Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands as his face went red. 

“God, I’m such a wuss.”

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo. It happens sometimes. By the sound of it you’ve had a rough day, and being surrounded on all sides by screaming people right afterwards can’t have helped. Don’t mind if I stay over here with you, do you? Mum’s in a right state, and I don’t want to get in the middle of that” she tilted her head to indicate Molly and Andromeda. “When she gets all snooty sounding like that, it usually means she’s close to losing it. Mum wasn’t too impressed, coming here and finding all these guys carrying on like they were, right outside Sirius’ room, and you having a panic attack while they kept screaming---it looked like they were trying to help, but the one girl and boy were getting in the way. The girl claimed she’d read all about medical magic and the boy seemed to think you just needed a good punch in the head. I think that’s when your other friends got involved. Full body bind on both of them, and then they carried them off so ponytail could yell at them. He was doing the same snooty thing mum was, so I stayed over here with you and stayed out of it. It looks like security is getting them cleared out. Good, maybe we’ll get some quiet around here. They were having trouble getting Molly to leave. They said family only, and she said she and the others were your family and were here to take you home on Dumbledore’s orders. Shak peeked his head in Sirius’ room and asked if he wanted you carried off against your will on Dumbledore’s orders and he said ‘hell no’, and that was the end of it.” 

“I’m going to pay for that later. They all hold grudges.” Harry sighed, while he slumped back in his seat. “It hasn’t just been a long day, it’s been a long couple of days. I just couldn’t deal with all of them right now. I don’t think I ever realized how overwhelming they can be. Any time I’ve been with the whole group, it was always someplace crowded where there was a lot of noise, and so you never realize just how loud they all are. Hermione…well, I’ve always thought she had an unpleasant voice when she starts nagging—which, sadly, is all the time. Today, after the week I’ve had, it was just downright unbearable.”

“I heard you got kidnapped. I guess that would make for a tough week.” Tonks said casually.

“I wasn’t…well, alright, I suppose technically I was kidnapped, but they did it for my own good. They removed all the binds on my magic and the docility charm I was under—fractious animals! I’m going to kill whoever did that one. They also undid two obliviates that were on me from when I was little. They also fed me, gave me clothes that actually fit me, and didn’t keep me prisoner! That alone makes being with them a heck of a lot better than the Dursleys. I’ve been out and about more the last week than I have in the whole rest of my life combined, I’ll bet. I found out where my parents lived, and got a trunk full of stuff they left behind for me and got to see my family’s house, and I finally know where my parents’ graves are. I didn’t even know the name of the town where we lived… I went to Gringott’s and found out all sorts of stuff I didn’t know about my finances…visited Sirius’ family home, which honestly, I could have done without…and then today we turned in Pettigrew and that Crouch guy and I thought Sirius’ would be free, but instead there was a massacre and Dumbledore attacked us while he was sneaking around invisibly, and I thought the aurors were going to kill Sirius before everything could be straightened out. It’s really lucky Ha…Ignotus and Cadmus know medical magic or Madame Bones, Minister Fudge and those two aurors might have died, and they also helped me and Sirius subdue Pettigrew and Crouch when they nearly escaped…Dumbledore and the Weasleys keep trying their damndest to get me away from Sirius, and I don’t know why—they should be happy for me! I can finally get the hell away from the Dursleys, something I’ve been wanting for years now. I’m afraid to leave, because I have a terrible feeling something is going to happen to him if I’m not here.” 

Tonks’ eyes gradually widened as she listened to Harry’s rambling monologue. She glanced over at Shak and saw him jotting notes in a small notebook he kept in his pocket. Good, that meant everything would be looked into. As for the kid—frankly, he looked like hell: too pale, too skinny, dark circles under his eyes, and seemed rather tired and shell-shocked. She looked over to her mum for help, and Andromeda came to the rescue.

“Goodness, child, it does sound like you’ve had a busy week. Since we’re at the hospital already, we should get you looked over as well. I’m sure your friends did their best, but they aren’t trained healers. It would put my mind at ease if we got you a professional stamp of approval. Come along. Sirius will be fine. Two aurors are on guard, and I’m sure your friends won’t mind sticking around here while we run you down to pediatrics for a bit.” 

She had him out of his seat and most of the way down the hall before he knew what hit him. She saw him glance over to his friends for help, but they just grinned at him, handed him the cup of hot chocolate they’d brought back from the cafeteria and hadn’t had a chance to give him, and gave him a cheery wave goodbye  
That simple act by itself reassured all of them that their intentions truly were good, and they felt they had nothing to hide. On top of that, they’d made no attempt to restrain Harry or keep him corralled or micromanage his meeting with his friends, or with herself or her mother. If they had kidnapped him, it seemed they actually had done so with his welfare in mind.

That of course begged the question of what had been going on in the kid’s life that he’d had to be kidnapped to see to his welfare…  
Not long after Harry2 and Andromeda left, Rufus Scrimgeour came by with another couple of aurors to relieve Shaklebolt and Riggs, were both supposed to have been off duty hours ago, and to speak with Sirius Black. The two blondes watched from where they were seated a bit down the hall, but didn’t nose around or interfere. They did however grin, and give each other a high-five when they heard the excited whoop from Sirius’ room. It sounded like he’d been cleared of all charges. 

 

Tom and Harry were busy having a thumb war—they were both rather bored; sitting in a hospital for hours with nothing to do is no one’s idea of a good time—when Head Auror Scrimgeour limped to a stop in front of both of them. 

“Gentlemen. I’ve had a very long day, and I’m hoping to see an end to it sooner rather than later. I have some lingering questions about the events of the last few days that I’m hoping you two can clear up for me.”

“Of course, Auror Scrimgeour, we’re always happy to be of assistance to the Ministry.” Tom answered smoothly. 

Scrimgeour led them into an empty room, put an imperturbable up on the door and settled himself with a stifled groan on the edge of the bed. Tom conjured two simple chairs for himself and Harry to sit in, as there were none in the room already.

“So, how do you two know Harry Potter…and don’t feed me any bullshit about being his French cousins. First of all, neither of you are French, second of all, I happen to know for a fact that there is no French Peverell line still in existence.”

Tom and Harry exchanged a look, and Tom shrugged. 

Harry withdrew his wand and removed the color charm on his hair, and the concealment charm on his scar, and the sight correction charm on his eyes, before digging out his glasses and putting them on.

Scrimgeour blinked. “Time travel?”

“Dimensional travel. We were trying to get home and ended up in the bedroom of this world’s Harry Potter. He was half-starved and being held prisoner. He is, to some extent, me, and so I talked to him, listened to his troubles and decided to help him. He really needed the help too. I will never take my own life for granted ever again, now that I’ve seen what it could have been had things worked out just a bit differently. I discovered Albus Dumbledore’s meddling and interference in my life before I started Hogwarts, and it made all the difference. In my world, I found out about Sirius Black during my school-shopping trip before starting Hogwarts and wrote to Madame Bones to inquire about re-opening the case as I’d found out he’d never been convicted of any crime, for all that he’d been in Azkaban nearly as long as I’d been alive. Barty Crouch Sr., upon hearing that Sirius was innocent, revealed he’d been keeping his son prisoner under the imperious after rescuing him from Azkaban—his wife’s dying wish. He then committed suicide. In my world, I discovered that Lord Voldemort had used items known as horcruxes to secure a sort of immortality for himself—mostly because I was given, inherited, or simply stumbled across all of them before I finished second year. During this time I also discovered that I myself was one. The oh-so-famous curse scar held a shard of Voldemort’s soul as well. I made a deal with the goblins to cut off my head if I couldn’t remove it by other means. In my world, Lord Voldemort is truly dead. In this world, Harry Potter never escaped Dumbledore’s interference, and only stumbled across a single horcrux, which he destroyed at the end of his second year of Hogwarts while battling a centuries-old basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor. When he related to me the seemingly-never-ending tale of woe that has been his life, I couldn’t simply stand by and allow it to continue. We kidnapped him, removed the four binds on his magic, the docility charm that has had him walking around in a cow-like stupor for who knows how long, removed the obliviates Dumbledore hit him with—two before the age of two. We also destroyed the horcrux in his forehead, and gathered the others. My associate stumbled across Pettigrew and Crouch and a part of Lord Voldemort, who had re-embodied himself to some extent with a dark ritual and an unborn baby, quite by accident, while searching the premises for the horcrux we already knew to be there. The horcruxes were all undone, the golem body disintegrated, and Voldemort’s soul passed on. With all that out of the way, we decided to see to it that Sirius was freed, and that Crouch and Pettigrew were brought to justice. You were there for that part, so you know what happened there. Harry is now free to live his life, as is Sirius, and your world will be the better for not having Voldemort rise again to wreak havoc once more. All’s well that ends well.” 

Scrimgeour just sat there looking stunned while Harry put his ‘disguise’ back on. He and Tom stood.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t mention any of the horcrux bits to anyone but Albus Dumbledore. He needs to be told, or he’ll keep interfering in Harry’s life, trying to control him, and setting up dangerous tests for him to run through like a rat in a maze. You might remind him that, if the prophecy he heard was true, then crippling the subject of said prophecy’s ability to complete it was the height of folly. You might also have the board of governors of Hogwarts, or perhaps the assistant headmistress, ask for the grey lady’s help in resetting the wards of Hogwarts as they’re supposed to be—that is, held by seven members of the staff, not Albus Dumbledore alone. You might also want to let slip that the DADA position curse has been taken care of, and so they should pick the next DADA teacher with care, as they’ll be sticking around for awhile. You should ask Harry about his adventures in Hogwarts, and ask to see his memories of the events. If you feel really ambitious, you can ask to see my memories that I showed him. I think they’ll be quite illuminating.”

“Good day to you, auror Scrimgeour.” Tom called back politely as they left.

 

“I hope that doesn’t come back to bite us on the ass.”

“If it does, we’ll just leave. I think I figured out what went wrong. We should get to our correct destination next time.”

“Oh good. Not that this hasn’t been interesting, but I’d rather go home than travel through dozens of alternate universes trying to fix things.” 

“Especially if it means killing myself over and over again.”

“I doubt you’d have to—there are probably worlds where you’re the DADA teacher at Hogwarts, ones where you starved to death in front of the mirror, ones where I died as an infant because my mother stepped aside, ones where Voldemort won the war, ones where Neville has a lightning-bolt scar, and my parents are in the long-term ward…”

“That doesn’t actually sound that boring…”

“It doesn’t, but we’re also in the middle of something.”

“Yes…I suppose we should take care of that first.”

“I’ll tell you what, someday when everything is settled, and we’re bored…”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Deal.”

“Oh look, there’s Harry.”

 

Harry2 didn’t look real happy. Andromeda, who was still with him, looked furious, though she seemed to be taking pains to keep it hidden—probably to keep from upsetting the boy at her side.

“Hey. How’d it go?”

“Awful. I have a bunch of potions I’m supposed to take for the next week, and they want me to come back for a check up next month. They did some kind of ritual on me.”

“Cleansing ritual?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“The thing in your head was some of the darkest magic out there. I’d have been surprised if they didn’t. Do you remember any details about it?”

“Why?”

“I was just curious whether it differed significantly from the goblin version of the same, that’s all.”

“It really shocks me that you don’t get along with Hermione.”

“She helped you smuggle a dragon to help a friend, ran off to help you save a stone, and traveled through time to help you save an innocent man’s life. Mine accused me, Neville, Colin and Luna of creating a basilisk to attack people with, and has been nosing into my business and trying to control me since the day we met.”

“I suppose that would make a difference, yeah.”

“Your godfather seems to have finally been cleared of charges. You can probably go in and visit with him a bit. He’ll probably have to stay at least another day or two. Visiting hours will be over soon, so you might want to get on it.” Tom interjected.

Harry2’s whole body lit up as a huge smile cracked his face, nearly splitting it in two.

“He’s free? Free and clear? No more dementors, no more being on the run? I never have to go back to the Dursleys?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Harry2 whooped, much like Sirius had earlier, and then pounced on the two of them. 

“Oh my god! This is amazing! I can’t thank you two enough!” 

“Go see Sirius, you.” 

“Really, though, thank you.”

Harry grinned and patted his counterpart on the shoulder.

“Hey, what are alternate versions of yourself from another dimension for?”


	4. Chapter 4

“OH MY HEAVENS!”

The gathered Weasleys all stared at Hermione when she shouted upon opening the morning paper.

“What is it?”   
“What’s going on?”  
“What’s it say?”  
“What’s all the shouting about?”

“If you would all shut up and let me read, I could tell you!” Hermione huffed irritably. “Now be quiet and listen! Sirius Black Innocent!”

“Sirius got cleared!” Ron cheered. “Harry’s gotta be over the moon. He hates living with those bloody muggles.”

Yes, faithful readers, you heard it right—the notorious Sirius Black, long thought to be a murderous Death Eater and the right hand of You-know-Who, the only man to have ever escaped from the fearsome wizarding prison Azkaban is innocent.  
How can this be, you wonder? A series of unfortunate oversights, and nothing more. Twelve years ago when Black was arrested, he was found at the scene of a horrendous crime—twelve muggles and one wizard, dead from a single curse. He was already being sought in conjunction with the betrayal and death of James and Lily Potter, as he was believed to be their secret keeper when they went into hiding under the fidelis charm at the urging of Albus Dumbledore. It was all a lie. The real criminal behind all these acts was actually Peter Pettigrew, who has been believed dead these many years, and was in fact given a posthumous Order of Merlin for his perceived bravery in daring to face down the fearsome Black.   
In a surprise turn of events yesterday morning, Peter Pettigrew, and another former Death Eater long believed to be dead, Barty Crouch Jr., were apprehended and brought in for questioning, as was Sirius Black, whose location has been known for some time by Auror Kingsley Shaklebolt, who upon hearing Black’s story, put his career on the line in order to see true justice done. Auror Shaklebolt will be receiving a special commendation from the DMLE for going above and beyond the call of duty.   
“It continues on for pages and pages.” 

Hermione read them snippets of the story—Pettigrew and Crouch’s near escape, and the battle that nearly ended the lives of the Minister of Magic, the Head of the DMLE, the Head of the Aurors, as well as two other Aurors who were there at the time.

“Cadmus and Ignotus Peverell! That’s those two boys who were with Harry yesterday, the awful ones…it says here that if not for their quick action, Pettigrew and Crouch might have escaped, and the injured people might have died before the healers could get to them!”

“It’s all just an act, to get people to let their guard down. You heard them both yesterday, they’re both parselmouths! Only dark wizards are parselmouths.”

“Ronniekins…in case you’ve forgotten”  
“Our ickle Harry is a parselmouth”  
“And he’s as far from a dark wizard”  
“As you can get.” Fred and George interjected.  
“Don’t remind me—it’s horrible, knowing what he can do. It gives me the shivers it does. Anyway, it doesn’t count, does it? You-know-who done it by accident, making him one—and You-know-who is definitely a dark wizard—dark as they come, really.”   
“You two might want to think about what you’re saying now”  
“And you might want to consider what you’ll say the next time you see Harry.”  
“If you start accusing his new friends of being nasty evil dark wizards”  
“He might very well turn on the two of you and not on them.” Fred and George warned.  
“After all…they rescued him from the muggles”  
“captured Pettigrew and the other guy”  
“saved the lives of several people”  
“saved his godfather from getting his soul sucked out”  
“and thumbed their noses at Dumbledore while doing so”  
“something no one else has had the guts to do”  
“Dumbledore said, and so it had to be that way”  
“even though everyone seems to agree he was wrong”  
“and the muggles were no good”  
“and Harry needed someone in his corner looking out for him.”  
Fred and George were being unusually serious for the two of them—there was no sign of a smile or a prank in the works anywhere.   
“Think about this if you would, and we’ll say no more. When we arrived at the hospital, he was calm and happy and looking forward to a life with Sirius.”  
“Then all of us arrived—and you lot all started shrieking at him and yelling about Dumbledore and he had a bloody panic attack.”  
“You two especially are probably going to have to make a choice.”  
“Are you Harry’s friends, or Dumbledore’s yes men?”  
“You didn’t used to, but anymore, every word out of your mouth seems to revolve around what Dumbledore wants, not what’s best for Harry.”  
“You-know-who is out there, waiting to come back. Of course we’re going to listen to Dumbledore, he’s the only chance any of us stand against him!”   
“From where we’re sitting, you’re both betting on the wrong horse. Harry is the one who’s been fighting You-know-who.”  
“And Harry’s the one who’s been winning. Us, we’re betting on Harry.” 

 

“Alright, shut up, you lot, so we can get started.”

“Albus isn’t here. Where is he, Minerva?”

“Locked away in his office. He won’t let anyone in and he won’t come out.” McGonagall replied, sounding worried.

“Well, I can’t say I blame him too much. No wizard likes being without a wand, and with the death eaters moving, it would be suicide for him to be out and about without it.”

Arthur’s words set off a firestorm, of howls and demands for answers.

“What? His wand?”

“Those fellows who were with Harry took it.”

Arthur quickly explained what all he had seen when he arrived on the scene at the Ministry the day before—Dumbledore down and tied up, unconscious Pettigrew and Barty Crouch nearby, aurors milling around, Sirius Black standing there trying to look meek, while Harry stood in front of him with his arms spread wide to keep anyone from attacking him, healers flooing in from St. Mungo’s and trying to fight their way through the crowds, the blood-splattered walls of the interrogation room, the Peverell boys and Kingsley working to stabilize the injured until the healers could get there. He had to keep starting over as the Order expressed shock, horror and disbelief during every stage of his story.

“Then Scrimgeour came out and started snapping orders, and Albus tried to get Harry to leave with him and go home. He was very rude to both of us. I had a good mind to turn the lad over my knee and make no mistake! Albus demanded his wand back, but the one boy told him it was a Peverell family heirloom, and he wasn’t getting it back after he’d attacked them without provocation; then they--Harry, Black, Kingsley and another auror-- all flooed away to St. Mungo’s.”

“And he didn’t demand the aurors retrieve it?”

“Which would seem to imply the boy was telling the truth, and Albus knew it.”

“It doesn’t make any sense! Albus has had that wand since he was a lad just starting Hogwarts, and the Peverells died out centuries ago! They’ve a lot of nerve, stealing Albus’ wand like that. I should go find that boy and give him what for!”

“He doesn’t have the wand anymore. He gave it to Harry.” Shaklebolt spoke up.

“What did he say?”

“I have no idea. It seems all three of them—Harry and the two Peverell boys—are all parselmouths. And, like Emmeline just pointed out, it would seem it wasn’t theft so much as reclamation, and Albus himself seems to realize it, or he wouldn’t have let it stand.”

“Dark wizards, and probably death eaters to boot! Perhaps even You-know-who in disguise…or something worse!”

“Ye-yeah…You-know-who fears Dumbledore! Everyone knows it! It’s why we’re all counting on him to keep us safe! Who or what are these boys that they could just take him down? You said he was unconscious, tied up and disarmed? Who could even hope to do such a thing to Albus Dumbledore himself?”

“How much does anyone know about Harry Potter’s life with his muggle relatives?” Kingsley asked suddenly.

“He’s pampered and spoiled”  
“They dote on him, spoil him a bit.”  
“He’s a pampered little prince, waited on hand and foot.”

“Minerva?” Kingsley prompted. He could see she wanted to say something.  
She pursed her lips and then sighed.

“I was against leaving him with them, but Albus convinced me it was for the best. He pointed out that little Harry was likely to grow a big head, living among us—famous for something he wouldn’t even remember, before he could even walk or talk. I thought of what a spoiled little berk his father was until he’d grown up some, and I imagined it three times as bad, and I shuddered. He said the wards he’d created on the house would keep him safe from You-know-who and his followers. I didn’t like it, but he was compelling. He was right, of course. Harry rejoined our world at age eleven, healthy, safe and sound, polite as can be. My fears never came to pass. It just goes to show you can always depend on Albus to know what the right thing is. Why do you ask?”

“Some things he said to trainee Tonks while all of us were in the hospital that I found rather disquieting.”

“What things? Didn’t get some shiny new toy he wanted? Didn’t get enough candy?” Snape sneered dismissively.

“That being with his kidnappers was far better than being home, as they fed him, gave him clothes that fit and didn’t hold him prisoner.”

“What? That’s utterly ridiculous! Albus would never stand for such a thing.” Hestia Jones objected.

“Arthur? You had something to add?”

“Huh? Oh…well, it’s just…when Albus was trying to get Harry to leave with him from the Ministry, he said something to the effect of ‘those foul, abusive muggles you stuffed me with aren’t my family, and that place is not and never has been my home…and…”

“Yes?” Kingsley prompted.

“Well…last summer, my twins—Fred and George…well, they and my youngest boy, Ron, swiped the car in the middle of the night and flew off to get Harry. They spun a tall tale about him being held prisoner, having to remove bars from the window to get to him…Molly was fit to be tied, what with them stealing the car, and then telling such lies afterward to try to get out of trouble…” Arthur rallied, dismissing his disquiet. “They just didn’t understand what they saw, is all. Muggles put bars on their windows sometimes, to keep out burglers. Harry’s relatives are all muggles… that’s all it was, I’m certain. Everyone is right, I mean, honestly! The boy-who-lived, abused by muggles! It’s preposterous. I know all the purebloods like to think muggles are violent vermin that need to be destroyed like cockroaches, but it just isn’t so! It sounds like some blood purist has been spreading lies and filth to try to sway public support into anti-muggle sentiment. Even were he not the boy-who-lived, why, he’s their own flesh and blood! Families don’t treat each other like that.” 

The rest of the Order smiled and relaxed.  
When they had done so, Kinsgsley spoke up. 

“Andromeda Tonks overheard the same things I did, and drug Harry down to the pediatric ward for a checkup. The healer on duty filed a report with the auror department citing signs of abuse and neglect found during her checkup. She did a deep scan, since it was his first medical exam by anyone other than Madame Pomfrey at Hogwarts. He’s never been to a muggle doctor either. They also performed a cleansing ritual to mitigate the effects of long term exposure to dark magic.” Kingsley let his notebook fall closed, leaned back in his seat and met Arthur’s eyes.  
“If that’s not enough, he had a panic attack when Molly and the children showed up at the hospital and told him they were there to take him back to the Dursleys on Dumbledore’s orders.”

The Order shifted around uneasily.

“Then there’s the report given to me by Arabella Figg, who may be known to you. She’s a member of the Order, and was sent to be Harry’s neighbor when he was placed there as a baby. She told me she complained to Dumbledore a number of times that it wasn’t a good home for him, but that he dismissed her concerns. She also told me several of the muggle neighbors called social services to investigate the household. They were obliviated and sent on their way. There were also several complaints filed by teachers to investigate Harry’s home life. Those reports also went nowhere. When Harry turned eleven, his relatives spread the story that he was going to be attending St. Brutus’ Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Since the neighbors who complained saw that nothing happened to the Dursley family, they’ve been left with the impression that Harry Potter was simply a tiny psychopath all along, and the Dursleys are great Samaritans who selflessly took him in out of the goodness of their hearts in the hopes of setting him straight. They are also under the impression that James and Lily Potter were drunken layabouts, possibly drug-addicts, who ran with a crowd of freaks and reprobates, and that Mrs. Potter may have been a prostitute as well. So far as anyone there knows, they were drunk and driving, and had baby Harry in the car with them and were killed in a crash.”

Complete pandemonium broke out as the Order members tried to wrap their mind around the idea of a bunch of muggles believing that James and Lily Potter—Order members, Gryffindors, and heroes of the war—were such people as had been described. 

Kingsley sat back, watched and listened. Trainee-Auror Tonks had wondered what had gone on in Harry’s life that he apparently needed to be kidnapped in order to see to his welfare. Well, now he knew. Someone (Dumbledore) had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep Harry in a bad home situation, had taken pains to cover up that it was a bad home situation. The boy’s friends were all hell bent on stuffing him back into the bad situation, at Dumbledore’s behest; The Order were all more outraged and up in arms about the slights given to a couple of dead people, than they were about those same people’s still-living son.

Harry Potter had ended an eleven year-long war, and gave all of them a decade of peace and prosperity. For Harry himself—he’d gotten a decade of abuse and neglect, while being forgotten about by everyone—even while people still toasted ‘The Boy Who Lived’ at Halloween. 

He found himself wondering whether James and Lily regretted sacrificing themselves for the world, once they’d seen what the world had done to their son and their best friend in their absence. 

 

Harry2 was having the time of his life—had been for the last several days, once all the nastiness with the binds, charms, obliviates and the horcrux were dealt with. He’d been so many places and had done so much in just a few days, and there was a promise of more to come once Sirius got out of the hospital—they would still have most of the summer ahead of them.   
He felt great—getting rid of the horcrux, getting away from the Dursleys, having plenty to eat each day, and also the visit with the healer, had all done wonders for him. He was full of energy and his mind was clear—it was great.   
Sirius was doing better as well—he was starting to lose the waxy look to his skin, and his eyes seemed clearer, and his mood swings weren’t as bad; not living in caves and eating rats probably helped as much as whatever the healers were doing.   
He’d been splitting the last few days between exploring and setting up his house—he’d even gotten a house elf---reading through his library, learning to apparate, going shopping, eating out at restaurants, and just wandering around doing stuff that normal people apparently got to do all the time. It was wonderful. 

He was currently doing something else he’d never done before—he was sitting in a hot tub in his yard. Other Harry had mentioned how they’d made one in some abandoned temple they’d been living in, and he’d said it sounded nice. The next thing he’d known, he was helping build one. It was really nice, it looked rather like a natural hotspring—an oddly shaped pool with boulders encircling it, and a small waterfall at one end.   
It was a pretty place, very relaxing—heck, Nagini had practically taken up permanent residence on the rocks there; she really liked the steamy heat. 

“See? What did I tell you? This is definitely the life.”

“You and your hot tubs.” Tom snickered before taking a sip off his fruity drink.

“Please! The only person who spent as much time in the hot tub as I did was you.”

“I never said I didn’t like it—but you’re the one who keeps building them all over the place.”

“I have magic and can make one wherever I go if I so please—why wouldn’t I make them all over the place?”

“Point.” 

“Yes, this is definitely the life. Everything is perfect. I’m not moving from this spot.” 

“HARRY?”  
“HARRY, MATE, WHERE ARE YOU?”  
“HARRY JAMES POTTER! HOW COULD YOU ENSLAVE A POOR LITTLE ELF!” 

Tom and Harry both glared at Harry2, who winced and shrugged apologetically.

“Sorry…I invited them to stop by sometime. I didn’t know they’d be showing up right now.” He apologized before raising his voice and calling out “OVER HERE!” 

The Weasleys and Hermione stumbled through the decorative screening of plants that separated the new hotspring from the rest of the yard, and came to a halt, all of them staring as though they’d never seen something so bizarre in all their lives.

“You should come in; the water is great.” 

“You should have told us to bring bathing suits.”

“You won’t need them—none of us is wearing one.” Tom replied with a straight face. 

Ginny and Hermione both immediately turned red, and peeked.

“Perverts!” Harry huffed as though he were scandalized. 

“You’re wearing trunks!”   
“You thought we weren’t.”   
“Hermione, you’re not allowed up in our dorm room at Hogwarts anymore. When we were younger it was bad enough. I’m not a piece of meat, you know!” Harry2 added his two cents.

Ginny scowled at Hermione, as did Ron. Fred and George ignored the byplay, stripped out of their robes and hopped in.

“Whoa! Hot!”  
“Feels good though.”  
“That it does. Say, where can we get”  
“a fruity drink with a wee umbrella in it?”

“Winky!”

“Youse is being calling master Harry?”

“Can you bring another pitcher of juice out?”

Winky snapped her fingers and then stood there wringing her hands. “Master Harry sir? There is being a nosy guest messing about in Winky’s kitchen! She is telling Winky to leave!”

“Just send her out here, Winky, and put up a barrier on the door afterwards.” Harry2 told her. 

Winky smiled happily and disappeared. Molly appeared in her place right afterwards, wearing an apron and looking quite confused.

“Mrs. Weasley, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t just go wandering about my house and trying to kick out Winky. She’s only been part of the family since yesterday, but this is her home now, and I promised the kitchen would always be her domain.” 

“I cannot believe you would be so awful, Harry! Enslaving that poor little elf! You will set her free right this instant, mister!”

“Like hell I will. What did Winky ever do to deserve that? She doesn't want to be free. The Hogwarts house elves hate you and have gone on strike in protest. Dobby has been taking care of the whole of Gryffindor tower by himself, because he’s the only one who will come anywhere near the place. If you want to do something for house elves, try to put protections in place that will allow something to be done if an elf is being mistreated.”

“That’s completely ridiculous!”

“Hermione, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You've never taken the time to actually ask any of the elves what they want, you just decided they had to change their entire way of life on your say so. Winky stays, end of subject. I don’t want to hear another word on the matter.”

“This is not over, Harry! I won’t…”

“You will, or you can leave. Winky is part of my family now, her welfare and wellbeing are non-negotiable.” 

While Harry2 and Hermione had been arguing, Molly had transfigured Ron and Ginny’s robes into passable swimwear and they had joined the others in the hot spring. Coconut shell cups with little umbrellas were made for them and the twins, and they got some nice iced fruit juice.

“Now this is a fine way to spend the summer!” 

“How can you all just sit there when Harry’s a slave owner!” 

Tom winced as her voice hit a painful pitch, and silenced her with a wave of his wand.

“Miss Granger, we were having a nice, quiet, relaxing time. You can either join us, or you can leave. It’s your choice.” 

“Yeah Hermione, shut it, would you?” Ron agreed. 

Hermione’s lip started wobbling. Harry sunk down deeper in the water and closed his eyes. Tom simply ignored her. Harry2 hunched in on himself for a moment, but then he forced himself to straighten up. This was his house, and Winky was his house elf. Any sign of weakness on his part would mean Hermione would never shut up about it. It was the whole reason the whole SPEW thing had continued so long—neither he nor Ron wanted to confront Hermione about it, or tell her about the elves going on strike because they didn’t want to deal with the meltdown she’d have over it…and it probably wouldn’t have helped. When Hermione decided something was so, she was right—end of story. It didn’t matter how you felt about it, or what you thought—she was right, and she’d nag the hell out of you and make your life a misery until you agreed with her. 

He was going to stand firm, or he’d end up losing Winky, and he really didn’t want that to happen. He’d had enough chores at the Dursleys to last several lifetimes, whereas Winky was practically in raptures at the thought of lots of work to do. In fact, she had so little to do here, she’d volunteered to go start cleaning up Grimmauld Place. She’d gone through the house and put all the magical items in the ballroom, transported the library here to be added to Harry’s, brought over all the silver and had it polished and gleaming alongside the Potter’s (much less impressive) set, just in case Sirius wanted to throw any formal parties while Harry was at school, and had been whistling a merry tune about how godawful-filthy the house was and how much there was to do to make it even marginally liveable again. The house elves weren’t slaves, they were opportunistic workaholics who saw a sweet deal—magic meant you could do more work faster, after all. Working for wizards meant they got magic, someone to appreciate their work, and a place to belong all in one fell swoop—and Hermione wanted to take it away from them. It was little wonder they hated her. 

Hermione burst into tears, but as she was still silenced, it wasn’t as effective as it normally was. Molly, who had always wanted a house elf, looked at her like she was a bit mad, transfigured herself a modest bathing suit and slipped into the hot tub. It had just occurred to her that, rather than being on duty while here, cooking and cleaning and making sure Harry was getting by alright, she could relax, and have a fruity drink with an umbrella in it.   
They all enjoyed a nice, relaxing soak, while Hermione sat nearby in view, looking tragic and misunderstood while fat tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Um…HELLO?”

“OVER HERE!”

“Is that professor Lupin?”

“Yeah, he asked where I was staying.”

Remus ducked between plants and hanging vines, following the sound of Harry’s voice. He stopped dead when he saw the hot spring.

“I don’t remember this…”

“We just put it in this morning. In fact, we’d just gotten in when everyone else arrived. Come on in, the water’s great.” 

“Oh, really, I should…ah, well, it seems I’m not being given a choice in the matter” he trailed off when his robes were transfigured to a pair of modest swim trunks. He stepped into the water and sunk down with a hiss and a groan of pleasure and went boneless as the heat penetrated his aching body—his monthly transformations had never been fun, but as he got older, they got harder and harder to deal with. He was handed a drink, which he took with a laugh. 

“I take it back; this was a wonderful idea.” 

He took a moment to just relax, blissfully, as his aches and pains were soothed away, but then he pulled himself together enough to fix Harry with a stern look.

“As nice as this is, it really is an unnecessary expenditure—honestly, I can’t even bear to think of how much this must have put you back…”

“Um, Professor…what are you talking about?”

“I told you, Harry, I’m not your professor anymore, you can call me Remus…and I’m talking about this little tropical paradise here.”

“Um, it didn’t cost a cent. When I said we put it in, I meant just that. Me, H..Ignotus and Cadmus made this.” 

“Now Harry…you know very well that you’re not supposed to use magic during the summer.”

“I’m not with the Dursleys anymore.”

“Harry that has nothing to”

“Don’t lie to me. Every child in a magical household can practice magic to their heart’s content over the summers. The twins there are creating prank items all summer, Ginny there curses anyone who annoys her…you’ll never be able to convince me that Hermione doesn’t make best use of staying with the Weasleys during the summer to get a leg-up on her school work. I’m in a magical house, in a half-magical village, with two other wizards. The reasonable restriction against underage magic specifies no magic unless in a magic-only area, with an of age wizard on the premises, in case of accidents and to prevent secrecy violations. I will not be held to a standard that applies only to me. I’ve had quite enough of that, thank you.” 

There was an uncomfortable lull in the conversation, but the twins came to the rescue, and began telling a story, complete with sound effects and funny voices that quickly had everyone laughing. 

They lingered for a little longer, but by that point, the heat of the water was starting to get to everyone. Hermione, who had stopped crying at some point, followed sullenly, her face like a thundercloud. Usually the moment there was even a hint of tears, Ron and Harry fell all over themselves trying to make her happy—and if it didn’t work, any adults in the area usually ordered them to make her happy. This was the first time neither event happened. She couldn’t believe Mrs. Weasley and Remus; surely they couldn’t condone slavery and call themselves decent people!

When everyone was dry and clothed again, they headed inside the house, which wasn’t really a house, but a keep. There were a lot more rooms contained within it than one would expect from the outside, but then, it was a wizard dwelling. The keep itself was a squat round tower, with a second, taller round tower attached to it. The family’s bedrooms were all located in the taller tower—the children’s rooms at the top, and the parent’s right below. The base of the wider tower was a two storey room containing a great hall, with a balcony walkway that ran along the wall on the second storey, giving access to the rooms that opened off of it, mostly guest rooms, bathrooms, a large withdrawing room, and a library. Underground, beneath the great hall, was the kitchen, the potions lab, the elf quarters, pantry, infirmary, laundry. Off the great hall, level with the floor, were a small dining room for everyday use, a large and small sitting room, a large study, and a long room that functioned as a greenhouse with a glass roof and outer walls, a processing room for the plants gathered, a shielded workroom, and an armory. This structure was surrounded by a wall with small towers at the corners, which judging by the interiors, were once probably barracks for soldiers when the place was built. The gatehouse held the floo connection. The walls themselves had spaces in them along the interior which had once served as pens for animals, a smithy, and assorted other outdoor workspaces. It was a rather grand place, overall, and far more comfortable than a similar place of muggle origin would likely have been—it was well lighted throughout, for one, as wizards could ignore inconveniences like not having an outdoor wall handy to put a window in, and magic kept the place warm in winter and cool in summer. It also boasted modern plumbing, rather decadent bathtubs in the family quarters, hot and cold running water, and a fully equipped, modern (magical) kitchen. 

While they did their tour, Harry found himself watching Remus. He was a very different man from his Remus, back in his own world. The extra years as a werewolf had really taken a tremendous toll on the man—he was completely grey, badly scarred, and seemed both beaten and exhausted. This Remus was also far more bitter than his own was, back when he met him. He was self-effacing and passive aggressive and smiled in all the right places, but underneath there was a core of rage that peeked out now and again if you looked for it. 

Harry gradually let himself fall behind to walk with him. While the others were all peering around in interest, or in Hermione, Ron and Molly’s case, poking their noses into everything, Remus was walking along, looking pained and nostalgic. You could almost see the memories of happier times playing behind his eyes.   
He waited until the others got a little ways ahead and then tugged at Remus’ sleeve to get his attention.

“Yes…um, Ignotus, was it?”

“Might I speak with you for a moment, Mr. Lupin?”

“Certainly.”

“In private, if you don’t mind.”

 

Remus smiled and gestured Harry to preceed him into the sitting room they were closest too, but Harry’s could see the suspicion in the man’s eyes. 

“An imperturbable, if you will. I would prefer what I’m about to reveal not become common knowledge right now. Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger have very big mouths.” 

“I see.” Remus murmured, though he did do the requested spell, and used having recently done magic as an excuse to keep his wand out—though he felt rather silly when he saw the not-so-hidden amusement on the boy’s face…and slightly alarmed when he realized the boy was completely at ease, even though he didn’t have his own wand out; at ease in a way that suggested he saw Remus as no threat to himself. He began getting a bit nervous; the boy in front of him, however harmless looking, had helped capture two death eaters and had taken out Albus Dumbledore—even if it was with help—without so much as a scratch on him.

“How can I help you, Mr. Peverell?” he asked to keep himself from panicking. 

“Tell me something, Mr. Lupin; if you dyed your hair, would you expect Sirius Black to recognize you when you saw him again?”

Remus blinked, thrown by the odd question. “I beg your pardon?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Well, of course. A change of hair color doesn’t change who you are.”

“If you were to suddenly put on a pair of glasses, would you expect your students to get confused and wonder who you were?”

“Of course not…I don’t understand, why are you asking these silly questions?”

“Are they silly? I don’t think so. You see, I’ve been becoming increasingly upset at how blind Harry’s supposed nearest and dearest are. I have to wonder whether any of you actually see him at all. You all stood by while he was abused, mistreated, starved, nearly killed on a yearly basis and all of you—I’m thinking mostly of the Weasleys here, not you so much…stood by and let it happen because Dumbledore said so. The twins and Ron did try to help him once, but they were shot down by the adults around them, because apparently Dumbledore can never be wrong and he was perfectly safe. Do you know the only person who has remarked on my startling family resemblance to Harry is Madame Bones? She doesn’t know either of us from Adam—the other day was the first time she’d met either of us.”

“I don’t understand…I mean, yes, you and your brother have the same color eyes Harry does…”

Harry sighed and slowly pulled his wand and began removing his disguise, enunciating the ‘finite incantatums’ so he wouldn’t think he was putting on a disguise.   
Remus blanched and the blood began to drain out of his face.

“Harry?”

“A Harry, not the one you’re used to, but that’s really no excuse.” 

“Wh…whe…how?” he finally settled on.

“I’m from a different dimension. We were trying to get back to our own world after a short vacation in one that was very different, and we ended up here instead…in this world’s Harry’s room, to be exact. We traded stories, and I was rather appalled at how fucked-up this world was compared to my own. But enough of that…none of this is actually why I asked to speak with you. I was wondering…how attached are you to your werewolf curse?”

A terrible hope lit Remus’ eyes for just an instant before being firmly, fiercely quashed.

“Why do you ask?” he questioned, his voice flat and without inflection.

“Because I can cure you. The Remus in my world hasn’t been a werewolf since before my second year. We wanted to hide how it was done, so we concocted a wild story about how I’d been trying to make him feel better and confunded him to make him forget about the upcoming full moon, but it worked so well that he didn’t transform. He discovered, much to his chagrin, that he’d never actually been a werewolf, but because he believed he was, his magic made him transform into a ravening beast every month—so he was actually a wolf animagus who lost his mind on the night of the full moon. We cured the other werewolves who weren’t cannibals, and said the same dirty trick had been played on them as well, and all the cured wolves led the aurors to help them capture the mad cannibal ones and take them out. My Remus wrote a book about his tragic experiences as a ‘not werewolf’ and the toll it took on his life, a sequel of sorts to his last book, “Hairy snout, Human heart’. It was a bestseller for many a week…he got a lot of play out of it. Apparently witches really dig men in pain.”

“And people bought such a cockamamie story?”

“Yup. They had no other explanation, so it must be true. Did anyone see you transformed on the last full moon?”

“No. Everyone was gone from the house while I was. Surely you don’t think…”

“I saw Harry’s memories of the night Pettigrew escaped all of you at Hogwarts. You didn’t transform until you looked at the moon, even though you should have already been transformed for an hour or more by that point. You could just say you were so upset by Harry’s disappearance that you quite forgot, and didn’t realize what happened until the next morning when you checked the date, and point to the oddities that night as further support. All you’d have to do is go and get a clean bill of health from St. Mungo’s. Your altered appearance you can explain away by the fact that you never tried to fix any of the damage, because you believed all your wounds to be full of cursed dark magic and therefore untreatable.”

“What about Madame Pomfrey?”

“She never actually checked to see if you were actually a werewolf, she just accepted Dumbledore’s word that you were. She felt really dumb, and it made her and a lot of other people think that, hey, maybe the old man isn’t godlike in his infallibility, and maybe we should you know, check facts and form our own opinions once in a while, which really, is all to the good to my way of thinking.”

“Why did you all go to such trouble to hide this supposed cure of yours? Why didn’t you simply make it public?”

“Because the cure is the elixir of life, and none of us wanted to be fighting off would-be dark lords with a yen for immortality for the rest of our lives.” 

“How on earth did you acquire elixir of life?”

“I made it.”

“Where did you get a philosopher’s stone?”

“From a mirror Nicholas Flamel gave to Dumbledore many years ago. It’s a character test. It found me worthy, gave me a stone. I kept it secret and made the elixir, and fed some to Remus in the hopes it would make him feel better. It de-aged him down to a baby. I was eleven, I panicked, and asked Winky to watch baby you and sent Oddment, the other house elf out to get me the ingredients to make aging solution. Winky fed it to you in a baby bottle, so I didn’t actually see the results till you came downstairs later. That’s when we discovered you weren’t a werewolf anymore.”

“How did you know how to make the elixir? You were…still are, just a child!”

“It’s not like it was hard. I just ground it up and dumped it in a bottle of whiskey and shook it up.” 

Remus started laughing a trifle hysterically. His laughter cut off abruptly when Harry held up a vial of liquid that looked like it contained a heart of fire.

“So…I’ll ask again. How attached are you to your werewolf curse?”

 

“Hey, Ignotus, there you are! We were all wondering where you’d disappeared to…Hermione was ready to go drag you back by your ear. Where’s professor Lupin?” Ron asked.

“He had to run off suddenly, and for future reference, if two people disappear behind locked doors, it usually means they’re trying to have a private conversation.” Harry replied, directing his answer to Hermione, who looked offended.

“What could you possibly have to speak to professor Lupin about? How do you know him?”

“He knew my parents, years ago, and none of your business.” 

“I think we all have a right to know!”

“It’s not your business, no you don’t. Moving on…is lunch ready yet?”

“Yeah, we were just waiting for you two before heading in. I guess we can head off now if professor Lupin isn’t coming.” 

Harry2 led everyone into the small dining room, and everyone gasped—there was a crisp white linen tablecloth, set with fine china and crystal, with a lovely flower arrangement in the center of the table. Everything gleamed and there was a faint scent of lemon in the air. When everyone took their seats, their plates were filled were filled with an array of savory foods cooked to perfection, and a chilled glass of lemonade that held the absolute perfect blend of sweet and tart.  
Everything looked wonderful, smelled wonderful…

“Um, Harry? Hermione didn’t get nothing.” Ron said around a mouthful of food.

Hermione’s stomach gurgled upon smelling and seeing the feast that had been presented to everyone else. She looked more closely at her plate…her sad, empty plate… and realized it and her silverware had dust on it, and her glass had spots. Her seat was quite uncomfortable as well…it felt rather hard, like the cushioning charms had all disappeared. The part of the flower arrangement facing her was all wilted as well…and her folded napkin was stained and a slightly dingy grey—everything in startling contrast to the loveliness and cleanliness all around her.

Harry2 stifled a wince and bit his lip upon seeing Hermione’s stormy face, then he received a kick in his shin and glanced at his counterpart. He didn’t need him to speak to understand his warning. This was Winky’s way of showing her displeasure to Hermione who had spent the whole day making snide comments about how he needed to free her immediately. Because of Dobby, no one in Gryffindor House had felt the elves displeasure at her actions, but this time there was no Dobby around. He needed to make a choice—support Hermione, or support Winky. He could order Winky to make everything nice again, and serve Hermione a nice lunch like everyone else had gotten—but that would, ironically, make Harry exactly what Hermione was saying he was—a slave owner. If he was going to live up to his assertion that Winky was part of his family now, he had to support her independence, and her protest. 

He knew that, agreed with it…that didn’t make it any easier to actually do. He swallowed, tried to quell the sick feeling in his stomach, and tried to make his voice strong when he replied.

“Well, if she wanted to partake of all of Winky’s hard work, she shouldn’t have spent the day insulting her and trying to get her driven out of her home. There’s no Dobby this time to take up the slack, and hide the fact that the local elf is on strike.”

“I cannot believe you would order her to do something like this!”

“I did no such thing. Winky did this on her own.--she’s a sentient creature, with feelings and intelligence. Your heart was in the right place, but you’ve been going about it all wrong, Hermione. You tried to trick the Hogwarts elves into being free, and they were insulted and shunned Gryffindor tower because of it. If you really wanted to help them, you should have asked them what they wanted. Dobby is an exception. He wanted to be free. He told me that he was unhappy and had a cruel master. I helped him because that was what he wanted. The other elves don’t want it, and they’re very angry at you for trying to force them to comply with your idea of what’s best for them, rather than letting them be what they want to be. Ron and I did try to tell you some of this before, but you have a tendency to not listen to anyone once you’ve decided something—you’re always right, even when you’re wrong, and woe is anyone who tries to tell you otherwise. They feel you’ve treated them with profound disrespect. You’ve never talked to a single house elf, and yet, you’ve tried to force them to rearrange their entire life and society to suit your idea of what it should be. If you really want to help house elves, maybe you should start with listening, rather than talking.” 

Hermione ran from the room, furious and crying. When she had gone, Winky popped up beside Harry2 with a fresh treacle tart (his favorite), beamed at him, and disappeared again. 

“Bloody hell.” Ron murmured.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Molly sighed. She ate a bit more and then pushed her plate away. “Please thank Winky for the lovely meal. We should probably get going.” 

“Aw, mum!” Ron and Ginny whined. 

“Shut it you two. Our dear Hermione has been straining ickle Harrykins hospitality since we got here.”

“Yeah. Best to get out while the getting is good, right?” 

“But we just got here! Mum, let me stay over!” Ron pleaded.

“Ronald! I’ve raised you with better manners than that! It’s not my call whether you stay over here or not, and frankly, I’m more inclined to take Harry and the others home with us than let you stay here!”

“No offense, Mrs. Weasley, but I’m kind of enjoying it here for the moment. I’m fine, as you can see.” 

“I don’t like that there’s no adult supervision.”

“Remus Lupin will be returning here later. He recently lost his job, and he has nowhere else to go. He was supposed to be living with Sirius before everything happened.” Harry interjected. 

“And Winky is 37 years old, if it makes you feel any better.” Tom added.

“It doesn’t, but nice try.” Molly replied, her voice dry. “Come on, you lot, let’s collect Hermione and get going.” 

“What about the treacle tart?” Ron griped.

Harry2 rolled his eyes, cut out a chunk for himself, Tom and other Harry, and handed the rest over to Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George smacked Ron in the back of the head.

When they were all gone, the dirty dishes started disappearing from the table. Harry2 ate his treacle tart with enjoyment, but he was still feeling rather morose.

“She’s probably not going to speak to me for weeks after this whole mess, or if she does, she’ll be snippy. She really doesn’t like anyone telling her she’s wrong…and having it done like this, well, she probably feels kind of humiliated.” 

“I’m sure she does, but if you’re looking for sympathy for her, I’m so the wrong person to ask for it.” Harry snorted. 

“Given my past track record, I don’t really feel qualified to comment on how utterly, mind bogglingly irritating I found her to be.”

“Gee Tom, tell us how you really feel.” Harry laughed.

“She has two modes, that I’ve seen—interrogation and condescension—neither of which I appreciate having directed at me.”

“Three…no, four…sucking up to adults and people in authority, and having hysterical fits.” 

“Would you both stop? She’s one of my best friends.”

“And she was wrong. If nothing else, simple good manners would dictate that you don’t go to someone’s house as an invited guest and behave the way she did. Frankly, I expected better of your Hermione…but it seems that the difference between our worlds isn’t that she’s better here, it that’s you tolerate her better. I can’t. About three quarters of the time she's driving me up the bloody wall. Dumbledore thinks it's some kind of pureblood prejudice that gets people irritated with her. It's not. Justin Finch-Fletchly never had the same problems with people. Dean either, before we found out he's actually a half-blood.

“He is?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. His dad’s name was Apollo Bonham. He actually owns St. Mungo’s. Blaise Zabini is his cousin—his mum and Dean’s dad were twins.” 

“Who?”

“Blaise Zabini. Tall, black fellow in our year in Slytherin…almond shaped eyes, cheekbones…kind of a snob? Is this ringing any bells?”

“I think so…”

“I cannot believe you’ve been through three years at Hogwarts and don’t even know the names of your yearmates, let alone anyone else.” 

“I’ve been busy…and I know the names of all the quidditch players.” 

“Well, that’s something at least. Speaking of people that you know, how’s the guest list for the party going?”

“I think I’ve gotten replies from everyone we invited.”

“You don’t sound enthused.”

“You had me pretty much invite everyone whose name I remember…some, heck, most of them I’ve barely exchanged a dozen words with.”

“Well then, this will give you a chance to exchange more. Did the Wyrd Sisters reply?”

“Yeah…they sound pretty jazzed too. Will Winky be able to make enough food and all for everyone by herself?”

“Oh, don’t worry, other elves will show up to help her. No one here will see any of them, but they’ll be here.”

“What? They just show up on their own?”

“They visit with each other all the time, and spread the word when there’s a party or some other big event coming up, and whatever elves are available and have nothing to do come by to pitch in.” 

“Wow…I had no idea.”

“They love to work—having work to share gives an elf status among the others, or something. So yeah, folks who throw a lot of parties, or have a large family, lots of house guests, or are just slobs who eat too much are sort of envied by other elves for having so much to do. Between Grimmauld Place and the upcoming party, Winky probably has all sorts of street cred right now.”

“How do you know so much about house elves?”

“I talked to them.”

“So they really aren’t slaves of any sort and Hermione really should just stop…”

“I never said that, I only said she’s going about it wrong. It’s kind of like us, versus the Weasleys. The Weasleys are a large, happy family, and they work as a family. The whole group would fight tooth and nail to keep anyone from breaking their family apart. You and I spent our childhoods wishing for rescue. Dobby would be us, in this example. The Hogwarts elves, and Winky would be the Weasleys. To anyone in a happy family, in a good home, the idea of seeing it as a prison is ludicrous. That doesn’t mean there aren’t families that don’t work, or elves that maybe need help to get out of a bad situation. That’s why I said if she wanted to help, she should see about establishing protections or a protocol for unhappy elves to help them find a better situation. Tricking happy elves out of their homes isn’t the way to go about it. There will be resistance, of course. Once upon a time, there was no such thing as child abuse or spousal abuse. It happened, quite a lot in fact, but it didn’t exist so far as the laws went. It took a change in mindset for that to change, because people were used to just accepting it, and believing that it was a parent’s right, or a husband’s right or whatever. That’s where the real fight will be, in changing the mindset that says it’s okay to abuse an elf, or mistreat it and what have you. If she really wants to help, and isn’t just doing this to make herself look good, that’s what she needs to work on—and that will be an uphill battle, because, how can she get others to respect the house elves if she doesn’t respect them herself?”

 

  
“Oh, here you are…why are you in the library?”

“Redoing my summer homework. Those two are slave drivers.” Harry2 grumbled, before turning to look.

“Professor Lupin? Bloody hell! What happened to you? Did you fall into the fountain of youth or something?”

“Or something…” Remus agreed with a grin. “I’m not a werewolf anymore.” 

“Really? There’s a cure?” 

“Of sorts…the official story is that I fell prey to an odd mix of accidental magic as a child that carried through to my adult years because of a specific and unfortunate series of events.” 

“Okaaay…so there’s a cure?”

“Yes, Harry, there’s a cure, but because of the circumstances I can’t really tell anyone that. Your…counterpart…is an interesting fellow.”

“Oh…he told you then?”

“Yes. Now, what’s this about redoing your summer homework?”

Harry2 sat back with a grin, happy for an excuse to put aside his work for a bit—he was just about done anyway.

“Like I said, slave drivers. They make me come in here two hours every day to work on one of my assignments. They said there’s no excuse to not do it well with this big library at my disposal, not to mention a desk and good lighting. This is the third time I’m revising my potions essay…I have learned a lot of useful tips for researching stuff, which I suppose is good, but still! Three times! They’ve been making me practice my penmanship too.” He glanced down at his essay and sighed. “It was probably a good idea. Even I can admit, my writing looked like chicken scratches. It’s not really my fault though…no one in the muggle world has used quills for like, hundreds of years!”

“There should have been a guide with your orientation packet to help you.”

“That’s what I was using to practice with. I didn’t get it until yesterday, after I wrote to McGonagall and asked her for the stuff. It’s no wonder people have been treating me like I’m retarded for years—there’s so much stuff in there that I hadn’t the first clue about, and didn’t know to ask about because I didn’t know I needed to! And there’s more…did you know you needed a NEWT in history to qualify for the Wizengamot?”

“Well, no, but I don’t see how it even matters…”

“I have a whole bunch of Wizengamot seats that I never knew about, that I would have essentially forfeited because I didn’t know this! Seven years of bloody Binns, it’s a nightmare. I was all set to drop it after OWLs, and looking forward to it.” 

“You’re friends have left already? I’d have thought they’d still be here.” Remus changed the subject.

Harry filled him in on the earlier drama with Hermione. He was rather surprised when Remus just smiled at Harry and nodded.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because Hermione’s upset and was crying. Me and Ron always get told off when that happens. I figure the only reason Mrs. Weasley didn’t is because we’re in my house, not hers, and Winky is my house elf.”

“From everything you’ve told me, I think you acted properly, and by the sound of it, it was perhaps long overdue. You should talk to her again once she’s had time to calm down, and further explain your position. It would be a shame if this situation turned her off wanting to help better the lot of others- you need someone with her relentless drive to really make a difference, but the high handedness will only create more problems and resentment in the long run. As a werewolf, I’ve been on the other side of the equation more times than I care to count. On the rare occasions anyone did want to ‘help’ werewolves—and those occasions, believe me, were few and far between—it was often handled in such a condescending manner that one almost preferred the straight out disdain of others. Foolish pride, perhaps, but a person needs that. Unfair treatment, one can get angry about, and used right it can give you the will to keep struggling forward, to prove that you’re not what they say you are. Being talked down to and patted on the head by someone who claims to be helping…it takes away your pride and it destroys you little bit by little bit. You probably don’t understand what I’m talking about…”

Harry thought about the Dursleys—how they mistreated him while patting one another on the back for being so ‘saintly’ for taking him in, and the soul-destroying process of swallowing down his anger and bitterness day after day, versus the pure rage and righteous fury he could call upon when facing Voldemort, or Snape, or Malfoy.

“No, I know exactly what you’re talking about. Helpful condescension? Story of my life really, and you’re right, it’s better when it’s just outright nasty with no pretense. A dagger hidden behind a smile or an air of saintly righteousness is a slow poison that destroys everything it touches. I’d rather just have the dagger, and have them leave the smile at home.”

Remus nodded and they shared a look of complete understanding. 

“Padfoot’s getting restless in the hospital. I have a feeling he’s going to drive the staff to drink by the time they release him. I’m almost afraid to see what he’ll be like by the time he gets here.” Remus changed the subject again.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve been planning a big party. That should keep him plenty occupied.” 

“I don’t know if you fully appreciate what you might be unleashing, setting Padfoot loose on a teenage party. He’s far more likely to join in and set a very bad example than chaperone.”

“There’ll be adults there too. It’s a combination ‘hooray, Sirius is free’ and ‘hooray, I’m getting the hell away from the Dursleys’ party. I suppose we can add in ‘hooray! Turns out Remus isn’t actually a werewolf’, too, but we’ll have to just add that to the banner—the invitations have already gone out and been accepted.” 

 

Sirius was released two days later. He looked a lot healthier than he had, though he still looked aged beyond his years, with streaks of grey through his hair and lines around his eyes and mouth. He was bouncing off the walls and raring to go from the time he stepped out of the hospital. 

“Let’s go someplace! Anyplace! I know, let’s go to the French Riviera—there’s always Swedish bikini models down there, lounging around half naked. Sounds good, huh?”

“Sounds brilliant…but we’re having a party tonight. I don’t want to leave everyone invited milling around and wondering where we are, and Winky’s already gone to a lot of trouble making up food and drinks and whatnot.”

“Party? We’re having a party?”

“Yeah, so why don’t you get cleaned up instead, take a dip in our new hot spring and relax a bit. We can go to the Riviera another day. We need to go to France anyway to examine some properties and business ventures anyway, so we could make it a working vacation. After that, we can head off to India for a bit for the same reason. I’ve never been, so I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Lucky bastard.” Harry spoke up cheerfully. “My Sirius and grandpa Arcturus always took care of all that stuff while I was stuck in school. I’ve been to other worlds, but never actually stepped foot outside my home country…sad, isn’t it?”

“That is sad. What’s this about a hot spring?”

“Let’s get the grey out of your hair and then we can go see it. How’s that sound?”

 

Sirius’ post elixir of life transformation wasn’t as dramatic as Remus’ but it was nearly so—instead of a haggard old man, aged before his time, there was now a healthy, fit, extremely handsome man in his place.   
The sudden feeling of energy and well-being made him more hyper than he had been, much to everyone’s dismay. That was cured by their trip to the hot spring.

“It’s full of snakes…”

“Ah, Nagini seems to have found some friends.” 

Nagini herself was perched on the largest rock, at one end of the pool—but then she was nearly ten feet long, and needed the space. The other rocks had all gained smaller snakes of various sizes—adders and grass snakes and smooth snakes, all of whom seemed to think they’d found the promised land. 

“They’re just enjoying the heat, don’t worry about them, they won’t bother anyone. We should probably post signs or something before anyone gets here to keep them out of this area though. I don’t want any of the party guests freaking out and trying to hurt any of them.” 

“Right…because that’s the real worry here, that the snakes will get hurt.” 

Tom, Harry and Harry all nodded, and Sirius gave them all a flat look.

“I was being sarcastic.”  
“We weren’t.” Harry2 informed him, before climbing into the water.

Sirius looked around the snake-infested environs dubiously, but followed suit, only to sink in with a groan that was almost pornographic in sound.

“OOOOHHHH….yeaaaahhhh!” 

He went boneless and sank into the water up to his neck, and all of the tension just leached right out of him. A few minutes passed, and then Sirius spoke, his voice quiet and contemplative.  
“There’s been a piece of me, deep down inside, that’s been cold as ice since I set foot in Azkaban. Being away from there helped, a lot, but it didn’t completely get rid of it. Chocolate helped, the healers helped…but even then it didn’t completely thaw out that last little bit.” He laughed then, his distinctive laugh that sounded rather like the bark of a dog. “Apparently, all I really needed was a really hot bath.” 

“I wonder if we accidentally created a healing spring?” Harry mused.

“Can you do that?” Harry2 asked with surprise.

“Certainly. Magic sometimes has emergent properties that weren’t necessarily intended.” Tom answered. 

“I was talking about the therapeutic effects of hot springs before we made this.” Harry reminded him.

“And with all three of us working on creating this place, if any part of that was in our minds while we did our individual share…the separate parts might actually together make a healing spring, though we didn’t specifically set out to create one.” Tom agreed.

“That would be sort of cool…and I think you might be onto something. The Weasleys were all so laid back and relaxed yesterday. The twins didn’t throw any firecrackers, Ron didn’t explode, Ginny didn’t get in anyone’s face or hex them, Mrs. Weasley just kicked back and enjoyed letting someone else do the cooking. The only one who wasn’t all laid back was Hermione, and she didn’t get in because she was too busy having fits about me being a slave owner.” 

“So, next time she comes by, toss her in the spring for a bit. I’m sure everyone’s ears will thank you.” 

 

Guests started arriving at seven o’ clock. The great hall had been decorated, and small tables were scattered throughout the room. The dais at one end had already been set up for the Wyrd Sisters, who would be playing later, and two large buffet tables lined either side of the room, already laid out with a selection of foods, treats, and drinks. Smaller tables laden with finger foods and sweets were scattered amongst the sitting rooms, along with comfortable chairs to sit in. They had spent the morning after their soak in the hot spring getting the house ready—decorating, and putting up wards on the rooms and areas they didn’t want nosy guests wandering into—the family quarters, the library, and the lower portions of the house where the kitchens were, putting up signs to warn everyone away from where all the snakes were basking, and outlining the doorways to the bathrooms, and the walkway from the floo to the front door with gently twinkling lights. 

“Looks like its showtime.” 

Suprisingly, or maybe not so surprising, the Weasleys weren’t the first to arrive—it did always take them a long time to get organized. No, that honor went to the Diggorys—Harry had invited all the members of the quidditch teams of Hogwarts, except for Slytherin. Cedric Diggory was the seeker for Hufflepuff.  
Madame Bones, her niece Susan, along with Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley arrived next, then the Tonks’ and Auror Shaklebolt, along with his girlfriend, a former Hufflepuff like himself. The Patils arrived next—Parvati and Padma and their parents, then the Browns—Lavender and her parents, Rufus Scrimgeour, then the aurors who had helped out during the whole mess at the Ministry, Then Seamus Finnegan and his mother and Dean Thomas, Neville and his Gran, Ernie MacMillan and Zacharias Smith…

The guests started arriving in droves, apparating to just outside the gate, or arriving by floo. The Weasley horde arrived and the noise level went up several decibels—Harry2 wanted to stay and chat, but he was too busy helping Sirius welcome everyone; that and Ron spotted all the food and disappeared towards the nearest buffet table as soon as he entered the room.   
The twins waded into the center of the crowd and started tossing around fireworks and telling jokes.   
Percy gave Harry a stiff little nod, and looked like he’d just swallowed a lemon, before scurrying off towards the nearest Ministry folks.   
Hermione sniffed, stuck her nose in the air and stalked past him. She was obviously not speaking to him, and he found himself more than a little irritated by the fact.   
Ginny tried to linger, but her mother drug her off by the hand. Privately, Harry2 was relieved—she kind of freaked him out, to be honest. She never talked to him, just stared at him intently with her face all red and squeaked a lot. 

The room was quickly growing packed, the food and drinks were flowing, soft music was playing from a cube Harry had installed in the ceiling with a sticking charm. People were dancing and laughing and talking. 

He still couldn’t quite believe it—Sirius was free, he was hosting a party in his own Dursley-free home, his Voldemort problem was over and done with. He was free…and normal…and had both the rest of the summer and the rest of his life to do whatever he wanted. A big warm feeling like a balloon slowly expanded inside his chest. He had a feeling he could cast a patronus right now that could knock down walls and trample dementors beneath its feet. 

The last of the guests arrived, and were duly welcomed. Still smiling, Harry2 went off to fetch himself a drink and enjoy his party. 

 

“Harry?”

“Yeah, Ha—Ignotus?”

The hour was getting late, and the party was still in full swing. Harry2 couldn’t remember having so much fun before in his life. It was amazing the difference not having a death sentence hanging over your head made to your outlook on life.  
Harry didn’t answer, he just tugged at his sleeve to get him to follow. Neither of them noticed that Hermione had spotted the two of them moving away from the party crowd to join ‘Cadmus’ and slip off together. All their earlier speculations about the two of them being dark wizard death eaters who were up to no good came rushing back to her. She fingered her wand and slipped off to follow them. 

She heard voices up ahead and crept up as close as possible, wand at the ready. She slid down the wall as quietly as she could and chanced a peek around the corner. They were in some sort of glass walled green house built into the side of the castle, though it was empty at the moment. She could see Harry, and the two nasty Peverell boys standing together a short distance away.

“….sure you really have to leave?”

“We’re not really even supposed to be here, remember? The only reason we stuck around this long is because you needed help and we were in the best position to offer it.” 

“Now Sirius is free, you’re away from the Dursleys, Voldemort’s threat against your life and sanity have been ended, and two death eaters who had been running free have faced justice.”

“You forgot Remus not being a werewolf anymore. I still can’t believe how much things have changed in such a short time.”

“Well it has. We took care of the major hurdles, whatever else is left is up to you.”

“Yeah…”

“You sound a bit down. Is something wrong?”

“No! You’ve both done so much for me…it’s just Hermione. She’s still snubbing me. I guess I’m just afraid I’m going to end up being enemies with her like you are.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. At this point, that’s really up to her. Maybe you should show her some of your memories of her in the pensieve. Lord knows a bit of outside perspective might help. I think the main problem with her is that she’s incredibly arrogant, and extremely insecure at the same time. She worships anyone in a position of authority to the point of mindless, slavish devotion, and has little or no respect for anyone else. I think part of the problem is that she’s bought into her own hype. Most brilliant witch of the age indeed! She’s got a very good memory, and she reads a lot. That’s it really. When the Marauders were our age they were designing things like the Marauders Map and becoming animagi…Snape was rewriting the potions textbooks and creating his own spells…our mother could levitate and make flowers bloom by looking at them when she was seven, and was creating her own charms and potions improvements while she was in school. Hermione can do school work. That’s not brilliance, that’s relentless studying and practice…yet for some reason, all the teachers have always gushed about her like she was rewriting the laws of magic. She’s gotten a big head over it. Now that your magic isn’t bound and you don’t have that damned docility charm clouding your mind up, you’ll probably notice a vast improvement in yourself when you get back to Hogwarts. I can tell you right now that’s not going to sit well with her. For all that she’s always after you and Ron to study more, I can guarantee if you start doing better than her, even if only in a single class, she’s going to start undermining you wherever she can and trying to sabotage you. Watch your back with her. She’s different in some ways from my Granger, but not that different. If you do stop being friends, well, I can already see it won’t be your doing if that happens—it will all be on her. You should also keep an eye on both her and Ginny Weasley if you start dating anyone. They’ll do their damndest to drive her off—spreading rumors, hexing her in the hallways, sending her cursed letters, you name it.”

“Man…your Hermione is a bitch.”

“And how. Look, I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but sometimes friends grow apart, and sometimes there’s nothing you can do to keep it from happening. Maybe it won’t and you’re worrying for nothing. That’s on her, either way. She needs to stop acting like a spoiled brat, accept that she’s wrong, and move on. Right now, she’s not acting like any kind of friend I would want to keep—she completely ruined your happiness over Sirius’ release, and your visit with all of them because of her selfish need to be right. You know what I’d have said?”

“Fuck off.” Harry2 laughed. “Yeah, I know.” 

“Anyway…we should get going. Hmmm…we should probably remove our disguises…just in case we end up in another Harry’s bedroom before we get home. I’ve had no fewer than three people ask me if I was related to the Malfoy's…and considering your relationship with them in this world, that could be bad. I had no idea Draco and I looked anything alike…”

“Don’t say stuff like that. You’ll give me nightmares.”

Harry and Tom’s hair darkened to black, Tom’s eyes became dark brown, and Harry’s lightning-bolt scar emerged on his forehead. He fished out his glasses and put them on.

“Well, goodbye, Harry. Take care of yourself.”

“Goodbye, Harry…Tom. Good luck with your whole taking the wizards to another world thing.”

“Thanks.” 

The two boys embraced Harry one after the other, and then one of them held up something, which made a spinning disk of light hang in mid-air. Hedwig landed on Harry’s shoulder, and Tom gathered up Nagini, who draped herself across his shoulders and torso. They stepped into the light, and then the light, and the two boys, disappeared. 

 

“So…they really were dimensional travelers.”

Harry2 jumped and spun, and Hermione squeaked and nearly fell over. She’d been so transfixed by the conversation going on between the three boys, she hadn’t realized that a whole bunch of people had come up behind her.   
Hermione climbed to her feet, red-faced, nearly bursting with questions. 

“Tell me something, Mr. Potter…I know one of those boys was supposedly your counterpart from another dimension, but who was the other?” Rufus Scrimgeour asked curiously. “He seemed strangely familiar.” 

Harry2 smirked and then shrugged nonchalantly. “His name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. His counterpart in this world was Lord Voldemort.”

Hermione collapsed back to the floor as her legs lost all feeling in them. Sirius fainted, as did Remus. 

Scrimgeour just rubbed his head like it was hurting. 

“I trust this information will never leave this room? Oh…who am I kidding? Who would ever believe me?” He straightened up and turned back towards the music they could all still hear in the distance. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going back to the party.”

“Sounds good to me.” Harry agreed.


End file.
